You Can Marry Me
by deceptive-serenade
Summary: The Ministry of Magic is after every pureblood in the country. As a new law makes it legal to throw innocent people into jail and practice death penalties, Emily Goyle will do anything to save her family... but she didn't exactly expect that it would help to get married to Albus Potter, of all people. Albus/OC
1. Emily: The Offer

**You Can Marry Me**

The Ministry of Magic is after every pureblood in the country, absolutely convinced that the old Death Eaters are planning a war - when they're not. As a new law makes it legal to throw innocent people into jail and practice death penalties, Emily Goyle will do anything to save her family... but she didn't exactly expect that it would help to get married to Albus Potter, of all people.

Proposed to in a broom cupboard. _Classy._

**Chapter One: Emily: The Offer**

I was running.

It was the kind of running you see in the muggle movies, when everything's just so surreal and you don't really believe it's _you,_ absolutely terrified, muscles burning and clenching, breath making your throat dry and raw but you _just keep going._

I was running from the chaos. It was absolute madness in the Great Hall, and I panicked and ran: I couldn't handle it. I kept running and running, up the Grand Staircase as though I was being chased – and really, I might as well have been.

And if you tell anyone how terrified I, Emily Goyle, had become, I'll kick your arse.

I reached the last set of stairs, shoes clanging and echoing in the vastness of the stone castle. I whipped my head around the corridors as I jogged; didn't this place have _any _place to hide?

You know, one that I actually know of?

I cursed my non-rule-breaking reputation and scanned around me with increasing panic. I need water, rest – but most of all, a place to _hide._ A classroom. _Something._My eyes were suddenly drawn to a broom cupboard that I hadn't noticed at first.

Well, that was rather convenient.

I dove into the cupboard without a second thought and slammed the door shut. I pressed my ear against the door, listening above my pounding heart and heavy breathing for any footsteps.

Nothing.

I sighed in relief and turned to look for a good place to sit and rest my aching feet.

Note to self: _never_wear heels again. They're the work of the devil.

Unfortunately, instead of gaining a few moments of relief, I slammed right into a _person._

Bloody hell, I was trying to hide!

"Who's that?" I asked immediately, trying to hide the fear in my voice as I lit my wand – simultaneous with theirs. His face came into focus, and I narrowed my eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" I couldn't believe it; this was Albus _Potter._ I had never really met him in my years here; sure, we knew of each other's existence, and my best friend had been dating his cousin for the past two years, but we'd never exchanged as much as a hello. Of all people, I met a _Potter_in this stupid broom cupboard. It was slightly ironic, given my situation.

"Potter, aren't you supposed to be downstairs?"

"Why aren't_ you_there?" he asked suspiciously, moving slightly in the blue light bursting from the tip of our wands. "I'm assuming you didn't come up here for the same reasons I did?"

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Hiding."

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Why the hell are you hiding from our own graduation?" He pulled a face, not looking the slightest bit guilty.

"Too many reporters. My parents will live if they don't see me in a tassel and gown."

"They'll probably kill you."

He laughed, lowering his wand slightly. "It happens. I'm assuming you're hiding as well?"

"How did you know?"

"This is the Room of Requirement. You probably needed to hide, so the room changed itself to fit your needs. Although," he added, wrinkling his nose, "you could've chosen a better spot. I was in a pretty nice room before you barged in –"

"Potter –"

"Had a fireplace and everything –"

"I don't have time for this!" I snapped, feeling the urge to pull out my hair. "I don't know what I was thinking, running away from there, but I was just panicking and I don't have a plan and I don't know what's going on or what I'm going to do or if – what the _hell!"_

Something that looked suspiciously like tears had blurred my vision. They spilled as I swiped angrily at them, and surprisingly enough, they _just kept falling._I made groan of frustration and nearly stomped my foot.

I. Do. Not. Cry.

I didn't need something as stupid as _tears_. I needed to focus. I needed a _plan._

Potter was regarding me with a thoughtful expression. "I didn't know Slytherins could cry."

"Shut up."

"No, seriously, this is a revelation –"

"I don't have time for this!" I repeated, wishing the tears would come to a screeching halt as they made their way down my face. I whipped around and groped for the door handle. "I need to get out of here –"

"No, wait!" Potter grabbed onto my arm and pulled me away from the door quickly, looking alert for the first time. "What happened down there?"

"Find out for yourself!"

"Goyle, can't you just _explain_why you're having a mental breakdown –"

"For Merlin's sake, there isn't enough time!" I shouted at him, turning back and freeing my arm from his grasp. "Don't you realize what's happened here?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, thanks –"

"Look, I apologize for interrupting you," I told him firmly, putting out my wand light. "I'm going to try and find my family now, I don't have any idea what's happened to them –"

"Why would anything happen to them?" Potter seemed desperate at this point, and it was probably the reason that drove him to do what he did next; as I grasped the doorknob, he grasped at my shoulders and forced me around, pushing me against the door.

"This is awfully cliché, Potter," I snarled, struggling in his grip. He ignored me.

"Please, my family's down there, too." There was definite pleading in his eyes.

"Then come _with, _if you must –"

"Maybe I can help?"

I stopped squirming for a second to snort. Just who did he think he was, offering help like this? I wasn't a damsel in distress; I may have been crying, but there was no need to treat me as though I couldn't handle this by myself.

"Rule number one, Potter," I sneered, infuriated that he was unrelenting in his grasp, "don't offer help when you don't know what you're in for."

"I won't ever know what I'm in for unless you tell me," he shot back. He wasn't even fighting to keep his hold on me against the wood, so I stopped moving. "Goyle, what happened down there?"

I blew a couple of bangs out of my eyes. "Are you going to let me go if I tell you?"

"Of course."

"It's the ministry," I began immediately, not wanting to waste any time. "You _do _know they've been hinting at the non-Death-Eater act for a while, right?"

"Yeah, I heard about it."

"Well, they've passed a law." A lump was forming slowly in my throat as I spoke, making my voice come out thick and the tears came faster. "The minister of magic announced that they would be taking in pure bloods, Slytherins and Death Eaters – and anyone who's linked to them."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Taking in?"

"They all have to go into the ministry," I explained quickly, feeling more panicked as I spoke of the circumstances. "They'll be checked – under unfair conditions, I expect," I added, wiping my eyes. "There's no option of a happy life, really. There's probation, imprisonment or… well, death."

"_Death_?" Potter's already pale face drained of all colour – or was that just the wonky lighting? "You're joking, right? They didn't even do that in the last war! They can't just kill off old Death Eaters –"

"Well," I admitted, "the death thing is sort of more implied."

"Oh." He bit the inside of his cheek. "But they still chuck the Death Eaters in prison?"

"And their families," I interjected, my voice breaking.

"But that's – that's you, isn't it?"

"Way to state the obvious." I began to squirm again, trying to peel Potter's hands off my shoulders. "Let me go, I explained what's going on!"

"But why would they do it?" he demanded, gripping me tighter. "Death Eaters haven't been active for nearly thirty years!"

"I'm aware of that."

"But then –"

"Do you really think they care? The ministry is _scared_, Potter! They think there's going to be some kind of war, and they've been trying to stop it for years!"

"But –"

"Haven't you ever noticed how people _treat_ us? Haven't you noticed how the ministry has been forcing ideals that purebloods are the ones that are scum, and that we should rot in hell for all they care? Do you ever _listen _to the taunts we get the halls?"

"Wait –"

"Slytherins aren't the only ones capable of insults! This has been escalating for years, and now, _just now,_ at our graduation, they passed this law that is inevitably going to _kill _me!"

"But –"

"Now my mother and father and Scorpius and his family are all there, and I just deserted them because I was –"

No.

There was no _way_ I was going to admit to Potter, of _all _people, how scared I was.

Feeling more than slightly hysterical, I took his shaking hands off my shoulders and slid down to the ground, breathing deeply and wiping my cheeks. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Potter kneeled down and leveled with me. "I can help."

And with that, I began to laugh.

Dear Merlin, I really was hysterical.

"Excuse me?" I asked, unsuccessfully attempting to stop the loud bouts of laughter that were echoing in the small cupboard. I could see Potter's face flicker with irritation.

"What? I can do _something –_"

"You're even more oblivious than I thought you were," I told him in between chuckles. Potter _still _wants to help me? "Rule number two: don't let your optimism blind you. You can't actually do anything to help me."

"I could –"

"And furthermore, I don't know why you'd want to." My laughter faded as the thought struck me. "We're not friends. I don't even think we've barely said 'hello' to each other in the seven years we've been here."

It was ironic. The War was caused, basically, by the love Voldemort's mother felt for Muggle Tom Riddle. It caused a chain effect because of the amount of magical blood in a person.

I thought we would've gone past that. Everything was fine for the first twelve years of my life; Harry Potter was still largely affecting the Ministry's actions and I had just started Hogwarts. Potter's father was trying to let the magical community advance.

_But. _It was that shred of doubt, that fear that led the Ministry away from Harry Potter. Slowly, he was a hero with empty ideas. Hogwarts changed and naturally, my life changed. People whispered in the halls. The Potter-Weasley clan were the shining beacons of light throughout the school – throughout the wizarding world.

Make that the _oblivious _beacons of light. They were becoming a right joke and didn't know it. They were always laughing, playing Quidditch and falling in love. Those kids were trophies – a constant reminder of what happened. Others around them were wrapping themselves in fear of something that didn't exist. I don't know _any _old Death Eaters that are insisting on another war. The older ones may gossip, but most have moved on.

Why can't the Ministry move on from what happened so long ago?

Potter sighed and slumped down beside me. "I just think it's unfair what they're doing. And for your information, I am not oblivious – just misinformed."

"Open your eyes," I said, bringing my knees to my chest. "The evidence has been around you for a while, now. Right now, I'm just concerned about how the ministry is going to take us in – I mean, it'll be a hearing, but –"

"What are you going to do when you get out of here?"

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I could run. My entire family could probably find some place where there isn't any magic, and we could… go there…"

"There must be some way to get your family out of it," he said thoughtfully.

I contemplated it yet again. The families that were safe were the exact opposite of who was safe during the War thirty years ago. Muggle borns or half-bloods were completely at ease.

"I don't know," I said a few moments later. "I mean, if I had a good reason at the hearing... like a _really _good reason, the ministry might let us go."

"How about the fact that your dad's a Healer - right?" he confirmed. I nodded. "Does that service give you any leeway?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure if it'll matter. He has The Dark Mark."

"You could try it though, right?" he asked. "I'm sure he has a clean record."

"He does." My eyes burned again. "Everyone deserves second chances."

We fell silent.

"So it's pretty chaotic, huh?" he asked as more tears began to slip down my face. I nodded.

"Absolute madness down there. It's why I…"

"Ran away?" he asked. "You can't run away forever. Unless you plan on living without magic for the rest of your life."

I shook my head. "I mean, I think everyone's fine. The ministry won't take anyone without a hearing. I'm just worried about Scorpius."

"Are you friends?" I nodded. He's the best friend I'd ever had. "What makes you think Malfoy won't be okay?"

"You know who is father is," I said shortly, not looking at him. "He's a traitor to Death Eaters, but that doesn't mean anything to the ministry, does it? He's probably one of the most wanted by now." I stood, nearly tripping on my gown. "I should go –"

"And let them get you, too? I don't think so," he told me, snorting. "You need a plan."

"Potter, I _need _to go!" I insisted as he grabbed my arm again. If he's going to hold me to the door again, I'm going to kick him, I swear I will. "I need to check if my family is okay, and if Scorpius –"

"You just said they won't do anything without a hearing!" he protested, "and I know for a _fact _that Malfoy is safe, even if they take him to the ministry –"

"What the _hell_ makes you say that?" I cried, panic rising steadily within me again. "Potter, this is none of your business, and I shouldn't have run away, so let me _fix _this –"

"Who did he propose to last night?" I stopped dead.

"Oh," I said in a feeble voice, remembering. "To Weasley…"

In the freaking _library, _too.

Classy, Scorpius.

"Do you really think that anyone with a connection to Rose wouldn't be safe?" I tried to take deeper breaths, thinking.

For someone as oblivious as him, he had a point.

"Well… I still need to get back there," I told him, wrenching my arm out of his grasp. "So thanks, but I don't really think you can help me –"

"Wait."

There was something in his voice that made me uneasy enough to stop in my tracks. Even in the low light from his wand, I could see that his mind was reeling.

I had a bad feeling about this.

"Potter, I can't _stay –_"

"I mean, you just have to prove your innocence, right?" he asked. I nodded. "I mean, then it could be anything, really. There are lots of options."

"I guess," I said, "but... what is there? I mean, if you want to help me run away, there's that. We could plead to the ministry that my dad's a healer - they might go for that. What else?"

"I dunno, I just... _don't panic_," he said fiercely, looking as though he were deep in thought. "I'm sure we can think of something. What was your father's role in the war?"

I turned red. "Not sure. I don't think he did much but guard, to be honest."

"Well, there's that!" he pointed out excitedly. "And maybe I can go with you to the hearing. If Scorpius has a connection to Rose, maybe if you have a connection to _me_, that'll do something."

I rolled my eyes. "Why would having a connection to you help?"

"My dad's the saviour of the _world,_princess," he emphasized. "I could probably even get him to come to the hearing and overrule the minister. Plead your case for you."

"There's just one flaw in your genius plan," I said heavily. "Why would Harry Potter, of _all_ people, come to plead at _my _family's case? Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"What if – wait, no." He ran a hand through his black hair, and I could see that if there was more room in this cupboard, he'd be pacing. It made me jittery to watch him. "I don't know if you'd ever agree to this – and Merlin knows my parents would _kill _me."

"Potter…"

"I mean, there's this thing." He raked a hand through his hair. "It's an idea. It's not a bad idea," he mumbled quietly. "It might work. It's your choice, we can try something else. But it's just…"

"Just _what_?" I asked sharply, my impatience wearing thin. "Look, Potter, I'll do anything to save my family."

"Anything?"

"Anything," I said, hoping I wouldn't have to regret my words.

"Alright," he said softly, locking his green eyes with my brown ones. "You can marry me."


	2. Albus: The Reaction

**Chapter Two: Albus: The Reaction**

I was _so _confused.

I mean, there I was, sitting in the Room of the Requirement, and the couch disappeared. Obviously, I fell to the floor – in extreme pain, let me tell you! My buttocks would never be the same! Then, the entire room shrunk and cleaning supplies appeared out of nowhere. Only a few seconds later, this crazy chick barged in here, cried, screamed at me, laughed hysterically, kicked me in the shin, had a panic attack and informed me that the Ministry passed a law that chucks Death Eaters in jail.

Oh, and then I offered to marry her.

What was I thinking? Had I gone mental? I can't _marry _Goyle just so her family is safe. I can't just give up my entire future for her. I barely knew her.

But I have to admit, it takes a genius to come up with this sort of plan. My dad is Harry-bloody-_Potter_. Her family would be safe for centuries – the Ministry won't know what hit 'em.

I was having a hard time keeping myself in reality, however. My dad would never let me do something like this! Even if it was to save an entire family, he would go straight to the Ministry – but that would take years.

But Goyle began laughing hysterically again, so I perhaps I didn't have to worry about that.

Merlin, she was so _emotional._

"You – want – to – _what?" _she spit out between giggles, doubling over and clutching her knees. I felt a flicker of irritation, but shrugged it off.

"We could get divorced right after," I suggested brightly, having just come up with the solution. Man, I was brilliant. That could work – we would just have to wait until the whole thing blew over and then we never have to see each other again!

"Why would you do that for me?" she asked, wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks.

"I'm a good person," I answered smoothly, glancing at the dark corners of the cupboard and leaning back. She didn't look convinced.

Okay, so there was another motive Goyle doesn't know about. If I had a wife, then my ex-girlfriend wouldn't bother me anymore. To clarify, my ex is the epitome of insanity. She was the first girl I dated back in fifth year, and because of her, she was also the last.

She scared the living daylights after me. Even after the breakup, she stalked me, sniffed me, occasionally jumped me, stole my stuff, scared off other girls I've attempted to date and generally acted disturbing. That's Holly Birch, the daughter of the freaking Minister of Magic – and the reason my love life is non-existent.

A wife would drive her off. Right?

Right. Don't question me. Didn't you hear what my last name is?

"Do you think we have any other options?" she asked, stalling. "I mean, the law doesn't say we have to get married. Maybe we can do something else."

"Like what?"

We fell silent.

Well.

"Umm... we could... I don't know," she said helplessly, throwing her arms in the air.

"Me neither," I admitted.

"Why would you ever marry a nutter like me?" she continued. I flinched at that. Is that what this is about? She's hot. Why not temporarily marry her?

(I had a feeling that if I told her about my crazy ex-girlfriend, her evil Slytherin side would come out. I was in no mood to be shouted at again.)

"You're not a nutter," I reasoned with her, and she snorted.

Ah, well, I gave it my best shot. I couldn't convince her of something that was partially true, right?

I switched routes. "Okay, I know this will help your family. Nobody deserves to die for something they haven't done."

_Boy, I hope that sounded as good as it sounded in my head._

She ran a hand through her hair, her smile fading slowly. "I can't do that to you, or your family. That would be using you. I'd never be able to make it up to you." I had the feeling she didn't lie much.

"What kind of Slytherin are you?" I asked, grinning at her suddenly guilty expression. "You're supposed to be manipulative. Did you miss the memo?" I didn't think it was possible to for her to laugh more, but she did.

"When the time comes, you'll know exactly why I was Sorted into Slytherin," she told me, smirking all the while. I smirked back.

"Glad to hear it." I watched her smile fade as she sunk into thought. I waited patiently, flipping open my book again.

"You're serious about this?"

"Yep."

"You're actually offering marriage to save my life?"

"And divorce."

"You're offering to waste all that money?"

"We have too much money anyway." She paused, struggling to comprehend. I turned a page.

"We barely know each other."

"Yep."

"And our parents…?"

"They'll think we're in love." I shut my book and looked back to her. She looked uneasy and unwilling.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Once we've told them, we're not backing out. It's all or nothing." I shrugged. I guessed she forgot that I was the one who suggested this.

"I'm absolutely sure, yes. It's just marriage," I lied easily, avoiding her eyes as I spoke. She snorted and put her head in her hands, taking a deep breath before going on.

"I guess I'll do it."

Wow. She actually agreed.

"Brilliant," I muttered, slipping the Marauder's Map out of my book. "C'mere, we have to sneak back to my Dormitory without anyone noticing." I opened the Map in front of Goyle's questioning eyes, which widened as I inspected the seventh floor corridor.

"Where did you get this?" she asked in a hushed tone, looking over my shoulder.

"Family heirloom," I said, tapping the Map with my wand and stuffing it back in the book. "C'mon, we have to be back. I just need my Invisibility Cloak before we go to Hogsmeade."

Dormitory, Hogsmeade, home – should've been easy enough.

"I – you – _what_?" she panicked as I opened the door and strode out. Seconds later, she caught up to me, whispering hurriedly in my ear. "We don't have a plan, Potter!" I laughed as we reached the Fat Lady. I scrambled inside upon telling her the password.

"Of course I do," I said matter-of-factly, sprinting up the steps to the Boy's Dormitory and searching through my things. "Do you need anything important from your Dorm? They house elves will probably just put everything else on the train."

"No," she said quickly, tripping on the sock-and-underwear pile my roommates had made the night before, "but I –"

"Got it!" I yelled triumphantly, brandishing the Cloak from the depths of my trunk. I dodged around Goyle and ran down the steps.

"But what are we – Potter!"

I stopped running and looked back at her, surprised that she still was across the room. I waited for her to say something, but she merely panted, red-faced and furious. I tapped my watch and said, "What? We don't have all day!"

"How are we going to get to Hogsmeade? Don't we need _clothes_? And don't you think it would be nice to let me in on the plan?" I grinned, only making her angrier.

"Why? Don't you trust me?" I mocked as her eyes flashed and fists curled.

"Not at all," she retorted, unimpressed by my confidence. I laughed and walked back to her.

"You will eventually," I said confidently, taking her hand and pulling her outside. "Come on, I'll explain on the way." With that, I threw the Cloak over her and headed for the one-eyed witch.

* * *

"So your grandfather and his friends discovered all that in their seven years of Hogwarts?" she repeated after I finished explaining the Map. "And invented a Map?"

"Yep," I whispered proudly, lifting the trapdoor tentatively. The cellar of Honeydukes was vacant, besides dust and the occasional spider; I frowned, utterly confused. "Where did everything go?"

Goyle's shoulders slumped considerably under her graduation gown. "He must've heard about the new law and went into hiding." She let out a sigh and I helped to pull her out. "He'll be found soon enough." I felt a twinge of regret.

"I guess we'll have to Apparate from here," I thought out loud, "the front door will be locked." I held out a hand to Goyle.

"Where?" she asked, hesitating a little before taking my hand. I rolled my eyes.

"Home," I assured impatiently, spinning on the spot. We entered the all-too-familiar tube sensation, squeezing us of any oxygen we were breathing before.

"This isn't home," she muttered stubbornly upon seeing my house. I let out a chuckle.

"Temporarily?" I dug out a key from the pocket of my jeans. "My hoard of relatives is probably on their way, so we have to come up with a story, and quick." I opened the door and headed straight for the kitchen, calling, "We can't tell them about the plan, so we'll have to act in love, alright?"

I heard a loud _thunk _in the hallway and turned around to see Goyle on the floor, clutching her head. I raised an eyebrow. "Did you just trip over your own foot?"

"_Yes_," she murmured viciously, shooting daggers to the railing that had made contact with her head when she fell. My lips twitched as I watched her lift herself off the floor, muttering… _colourful _language.

"I can't act in love with you," she mumbled as she entered the kitchen. "They'll figure it out. Why can't we tell them?"

I thought for a moment while rummaging through the fridge. "We _could _tell them after the wedding. But that would be risking an injury from my mum."

"We wouldn't want to do that," she muttered under her breath as I found a carton of juice.

"Be nice to your husband." I lifted the carton to my lips and chugging. I wiped my mouth using the back of my hand as she scoffed at me.

"You're not my husband," she said absent-mindedly, eyes sweeping around the marble in the kitchen. I caught her eye, and she blushed. "What? You have a nice a house!"

She was making this way too easy.

I loved making people uncomfortable, it was hilarious.

"Want some juice?" I offered, shaking the carton in front of her. She scowled before shaking her head. I let out a sigh of exasperation. "Look, let's just cooperate. Do I have to remind you about the law?" Her eyes flashed, but she kept her mouth shut.

I smirked.

"I still don't understand what's in it for you," she pressed, narrowing her eyes as I placed the carton back in the fridge, considering the idea at the same time. Should I have told her about Holly?

_Nah,_ I thought. _With any luck, Holly will leave me alone once she hears about it._

I shrugged. "I'm just willing to help you." I grabbed some spare parchment and scribbled a note for my parents, who were undoubtedly waiting for me at the train station. I took Uncle Ron's old owl, Pig, and sent him off with the letter. Dusting my hands of stray feathers, we sat across from each other at a table.

Silence fell on us again, and I heard the ticking of the clock loudly over my nonexistent thoughts.

_Tick. Tock._

"We need a story," I said into the quiet. "Should we just pretend we've been dating in secret?"

Goyle shrugged. "I think that works."

_Tick. Tock._

"And we're going to get married," I pondered out loud, and rather uncomfortably.

"Yep."

One-word answer. Thanks.

_Tick. Tock._

"Why are you so quiet? You certainly had a lot to say back in that broom closet."

She looked at the ceiling. "I'm worried."

Two words! Ha!

_Tick. Tock._

"I swear, if this gets any more awkward, and I'm going to knock something over." I glared at her, but she only shrugged and fiddled with her fingers.

SAY SOMETHING!

_Tick. Tock._

"Goyle, what's your first name?"

Hey, I really didn't know.

* * *

"Maybe we should get to know each other?" I suggested another awkward silence later. She nodded and cracked an evil grin. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your title is the Hottest Single Teen in England, according to Witch Weekly." The blood rushed to my face and she added, "I don't see why, however."

I let out a breath of exasperation. "You're not exactly anything special, either," I lied effortlessly, annoyed when her grin didn't drop.

"What job are you applying for?"

"Funny you mention that, actually," I answered, sniggering slightly. "Journalist; I'm replacing Rita Skeeter." Her eyes widened.

"The headlines talk about your family all the time. Why would you join their industry?"

"Well, _someone _ought to report a real story. There's a lot of gossip in the Prophet." Goyle nodded in agreement, her smirk returning to her face as she crossed her arms and leaned forward.

"Ah," she said knowingly. "How are you going to report our marriage?" I pretended to think.

"I'm going to tell the entire wizarding community in London that Harry Potter's son is marrying the daughter of a former Death Eater to save her family. I'll include the fact that she's a gold digger, out for my parents' money."

"I'd rather you report that I was blackmailed into marrying you," she said seriously. "That way, you'd go to court and I'd get half your money." I let out a genuine laugh; I liked her. If we had met at Hogwarts, we could have been good friends.

"What are you going for?" I asked, leaning forward and resting my head in my arms.

"I'm trying to be a Healer, like my dad. I'm off to Healing school for the next four years, hopefully." I let my eyes widen and lifted my head as I pointed an accusing finger towards her.

"I knew you were in it for the money! Healing school is expensive." She shrugged, her eyes glinting mischievously.

"You caught me. But you're blackmailing me, huh?" I put down my hand and twirled a coaster around.

"What is the incriminating evidence I have? Moreover, what exactly have you done?" I was pleased to see that she blushed guiltily before answering.

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out." I slapped down the coaster and locked my eyes with hers.

"There really is something, isn't there?" I asked eagerly. "You're a Slytherin, there must be." She looked at me amusedly as I demanded her an explanation. She shook her head, letting her brown hair fall in front of her face like a curtain.

"No." She twisted her hair in her finger absent-mindedly, in deep thought. "What else should we know about each other?" I looked at her questioning, when I suddenly remembered.

Oh, right. We were getting married.

"How long should we have been dating?" I asked, my smile dropping slightly. "A year?" She nodded in agreement.

"It won't be as suspicious. Why would we have hidden it?" I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair as I thought of it. I looked to her; my parents wouldn't have cared if I dated a Slytherin.

"Because of my ex-girlfriend," I blurted out. Obviously! It was a fool-proof explanation.

I wasn't going to tell her, though. Whoops.

I suddenly had a great idea. "What if we just eloped, and then came back? That way, our parents wouldn't have any way of stopping the marriage!"

Her eyes bugged out as she opened her mouth to answer when we saw my parents' van (also known as my father's mid-life crisis) roll into the driveway. Goyle – or Emily, I should call her – stopped twisting her hair and got up from the dining table, looking nervous. I tried not to laugh.

"My mum's going to be pissed that I didn't meet up with her, so just brace yourself for the yelling, okay?" I told her. She straightened her gown and nodded quietly.

"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER!" I winced.

Ouch, Mum. Full name?

"Yeah?" I called sheepishly as she entered the wide-open front door, looking furious.

Oops. Probably should have shut the door.

"YOU HAD BETTER HOPE YOU HAVE FAMILY LEFT AFTER SKIPPING YOUR GRADUATION!"

Oh, right. I had forgotten about that.

She advanced, her face as red as her hair, and grabbed my ear. I howled in pain. "Ow, Mum! Let go!"

"WHERE WAS YOUR OWL TO TELL US YOU'D APPARATED HOME?"

"I sent it!" I told her, rubbing my ear and glaring at my siblings, James and Lily, who were enjoying the show. My father clearly looked as though he were about to laugh.

My family was just so supportive.

"I'm SORRY!" I bellowed, growing impatient over her endless ranting. "You figured it out eventually, didn't you? Furthermore," I said loudly, so Mum would hear, "I have an announcement." Automatically, my eyes travelled over to Emily, who was on the verge of bursting into laughter. I grinned.

"Who's this? Your girlfriend?" Dad asked, looking at her curiously. I knew if I got the words out, there would be no taking them back – for me or her.

_I'm _really_ going to regret this._

"Nope," I said quickly, glancing at my father. "She's my fiancée."

There was a second of silence before the house exploded.

No, not literally; Lily screamed, Mum burst into tears and James started laughing through bouts of "You're getting married _before_me?" and promptly tackled me to the ground, followed by Lily.

If I knew they were going to react like that, I would've worn a suit of armour.

* * *

Emily looked as though she would die from laughing as she watched my brother and sister tear me apart. There was a faint buzzing in my ear as Mum screeched some more and Lily and James practically sat on me. I tried to push them off, but they wouldn't budge.

"Get OFF me!" I shouted as James punched me in stomach, knocking over a chair in the process. He shook his head and continued to punch me as Lily kneed me in the groin.

That suit of armour could've been of help at that moment.

"Dad, HELP!" I groaned in pain and rolled away, James still trying to kick me everywhere I could. Dad picked me up by the collar and roughly pushed me into a chair. Mum had stopped shouting and currently had her head stuck in the fireplace, flooing my entire family to our house.

I looked to Emily, who was still giggling. "You won't be laughing soon," I told her, a little irritated and still in pain. "My mum's calling an emergency family meeting." She tilted her head in confusion.

"Our family is _huge_," Lily clarified as she and James decided to join us at the table, high-fiving each other when they sat down. I looked back to Emily as she hugged the graduation gown around her nervously.

"Tell me about it," I moaned before dropping my head into my arms again.

* * *

Emergency family meetings involved everyone - and when I say everyone, I mean everyone who could reach a fireplace and floo to whatever place needed. At this point, countless cousins, uncles and aunts were scrambling out of the green fire. Emily parents were the last to arrive, looking very confused.

"Please tell me you at least proposed properly," my mum sighed as people struggled to find somewhere to sit. I looked at Emily, who shrugged unhelpfully.

Aren't Slytherins supposed to be naturally cunning? Why isn't she getting me out of this mess?

"I don't have the slightest clue to what you're talking about," I said uncomfortably as the entire family stared at us from various points of the room. There were at least fifty eyes staring at me and Emily sitting at the end of the table.

"Did you ask for her father's blessing?" James said condescendingly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. I looked at him blankly.

"Why would I do that?" Emily groaned beside me, discreetly shaking her head.

"Purebloods are old-fashioned, you idiot," she hissed beside me as a sea of red heads broke out into whispers. She squirmed beside me, clearly wishing she wasn't here.

"You know what I'd like to know?" Malfoy spoke up, looking slightly hurt. I guess if my best friend hadn't told me something this important, I'd be pissed, too. "When did you and Potter start dating, exactly? Did you keep it a secret?"

Ha! I knew that'd come up.

"One year," I answered, trying not to look smug. Malfoy ignored me.

Emily cleared her throat and straightened up. "I'm sorry, Scorp. Albus just wanted to keep it a secret from his ex-girlfriend."

"I can see why," Rose said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. I scowled.

"How did it happen?" asked Dominique, looking as though she were dying for some gossip. "When did you meet?"

Oops. We'd forgotten to discuss that.

"I liked him for a long time," Emily blurted from beside me, shooting me a look. "Al didn't know I existed."

"Yes, I did," I argued, hoping this looked believable. So far, they were buying it. "I just didn't really say anything until last year."

"At the first Quidditch match of the season."

"Which Gryffindor won."

"I was sulking because Slytherin had lost." I nearly laughed. She would've done more than _sulk_.

"And she bumped into me on the Pitch, having come out of the change room and –"

"We got talking. Soon we were –"

"Friends," I cut in, my eyes glinting. Everyone loves a challenge. "Good friends. We helped each other out with Quidditch –"

"And Al is absolutely rubbish at Astronomy –"

"So she tutored me," I stated, feeling annoyed. I'm actually pretty good at Astronomy. "Things just sort of fell into place after that." All the older ladies dabbed at their eyes, and I felt the urge to snort.

"He proposed yesterday," Emily offered weakly, looking to her parents, who hadn't said a word since they had arrived. Dom, Molly and Lucy squealed and Rose looked at me as though I had sprouted three heads.

Somehow, that was a look I had become quite familiar with over the years.

As I checked my head for extras, Nana spoke up with, "Why doesn't she have a ring yet?"

"I… uh… didn't find a good one in Hogsmeade?" I said, hoping that it was a good enough excuse. Even to my ears, that sounded pathetic. My father shook his head, lips twitching.

"Don't worry Al, you'll find one in Diagon Alley." I nodded and attempted a smile, but failed.

Emily hadn't even attempted; she looked pained. "Mum? Dad?" She spoke up quietly, as if afraid of their reactions. I don't blame her. They looked as though something had died.

Excuse the irony.

They forced smiles onto their faces. "If this is what you want, Em, then it's fine with us." I sighed with relief, but Emily looked as though she was about to burst into tears.

Hey, I was the one saving her entire family, here!

"Why so soon?" my mother asked, still trying to comprehend the situation. You're seventeen and just graduated today. Are you sure you're ready for marriage?" We nodded simultaneously, and Emily grasped my hand with a fake smile.

"Yeah, we're just –" she glanced at me pleadingly "– so in love!" she cried weakly, squeezing my hand. We knew the real reason, of course; the law was put into motion today, so we had to get married soon in order to save her family._ Very_soon.

"The wedding is going to be within two weeks or so," I said loudly over more squeals of 'Aw, this is so cute!' and 'Young love.' The room instantly went silent, as though I had dropped a bomb in the middle of the living room.

"You can't be serious," Aunt Hermione said, glancing at Aunt Fleur uneasily, whose face had drained of all colour. "Don't you think they should wait until the end of the summer? Or maybe –"

"No," Emily interrupted quietly, now staring out the window. "Two weeks." The clock in this room became audible as everyone waited.

Merlin, I hate clocks.

_Tick. Tock._

"You don't_ look _like you're in love," sneered Aunt Audrey, glancing at Uncle Percy fondly.

And there was my cue to leave.

"We're going… ring shopping," I invented wildly, tripping over a cousin sprawled out in front of the entrance. I dragged Emily with me, who looked as though she was going to throw up. "See you in a bit!"

As we shut the door and stepped outside, Emily had started crying again, not bothering to hide it from me. I gave a long sigh before grabbing her arm and spinning on the spot, landing in Diagon Alley. Her eyes were red and she looked as though she wouldn't stop crying for a long time.

I knew we should've gotten hitched _before_ telling my family.


	3. Emily: The Planning

**Chapter Three: Emily: The Planning**

"Are you feeling better?" Albus asked heavily from the other side of the table. I glanced at him; the sunlight glinted in his black hair as the wind blew it around, causing him to have a hand in his hair every few seconds to flick it out of his eyes. He looked tired and dishevelled, and it was barely four in the afternoon.

I could only imagine how I looked. I'd been crying for the past ten minutes – ever since we fled from Al's house and apparated to Muggle London. He dragged me to a table outside a café and sat me down, thankfully not asking any questions or trying to hug me or comfort me in any way.

Honestly, that would've been a_ little _awkward.

I took a last sniff and wiped my eyes in embarrassment. I nodded slowly, and he sighed in relief. "Finally. Do you like coffee?" he asked me as a waitress headed towards our table (again. Al shooed her away the first time). I shrugged and shifted my eyes towards the blonde, sullen-looking waitress approaching out table.

She leaned on one foot and snapped her gum loudly, fishing a notepad a pen from her apron. "Are you ready to order?" she asked, flipping her blonde hair back. At this sight of this, Al was engulfed into a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like spurts of laughter. I glared at him.

Although, she _did _look pretty funny – but I'd never admit that to him.

I turned to the waitress. "Two coffees?" I asked politely. She snapped her gum again as she scribbled down the order, prancing off as soon as she was finished. Al let out another round of laughter, not bothering to disguise it as coughs. Feeling annoyed, I did the only thing I thought would get him to stop.

Yeah, I kicked him under the table.

He let out a gasp of pain mid-laugh and brought his knee up to his chest, rubbing his aching shin disdainfully. "I think I've been beaten up enough, thanks," he said sarcastically, looking at me with a half-grin on his face. "You _do_realize this is the second time you've hit me today, and we've just met?" I waved this off, and he scowled. "Why did you kick me?"

I eyed him wearily. "You can't ogle waitresses when you're married. Wait until the divorce." Al set his leg back down and smirked suddenly.

"Why, are you jealous?" he taunted, leaning back and crossing his arms smugly. I rolled my eyes.

"You wish." The waitress came back outside with two green mugs. She placed them on the table quickly and scurried away. I stared at her odd behaviour.

"Who's ogling now?" Al teased, taking a small sip of the dark, murky liquid. My mouth fell open.

"I'm not! It just looks like she's scared of –"

"Calm down," Al said gently, pushing the steaming mug in front of me. "You're dressed in a graduation robe and have been crying for the past ten minutes. You probably scared her." I shot him a glare, and he held his hands up. "I was kidding!"

"Didn't sound like it," I mumbled angrily.

"I think her shift just ended and she wanted to leave." He paused for a second, surveying my red eyes. "Don't you ever run out of tears?" he joked.

I grabbed the mug and took a sip, bitterness dancing on my tongue. I put the coffee down hastily, shuddering slightly before answering. "Believe it or not, I don't usually cry."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, his lips twitching slightly. "Really."

"Yes," I answered readily, ripping open a packet of sugar. "Really."

Al let out a huge, dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin. I thought I was marrying a nutter!" I cracked a small smile as I dumped the white crystals into my drink.

"I just feel so awful, you know?" I contemplated to him, throwing the now-empty packet down on the table. "I'm really disappointing my parents. It's not you," I added quickly upon seeing Al's stony expression. "It's the fact that we're so young, and that we kept it a secret. In case you haven't noticed, marriage is a serious matter."

He nodded as I stirred the coffee with a spoon. "I understand that. My parents have been disappointed in me before, so I'm used to the feeling." He grabbed a package of cream and dumped it in his cup as I raised an eyebrow.

"What have you done?" I asked uneasily. "You're a Gryffindor." He grinned wickedly and threw the empty package on the table.

"Marry you." I tried not to stare at the twinkle in his eye, so I took another sip of the coffee. I grimaced.

Merlin, coffee is disgusting. How do people drink the stuff?

"I'll find out one day," I mumbled, pushing the coffee away indefinitely. "Your family must be so angry right now." Al shrugged, traces of a smile reappearing.

"Consequences that I'll just have to take."

I felt a rush of gratitude. "Why did your siblings attack you?"

"It's just what they do," he answered, reminiscing. His smile grew wider. "We always wrestle, even Lily, who's sort of a tomboy. I guess they were just shocked, and their initial reaction was to hit me for being stupid."

I nodded, feeling the emptiness within me; the closest to a sibling I had was Scorpius. "It was chaotic," I observed thoughtfully, tapping my cup with a finger.

"It was _shocking_," he corrected, "though it was chaotic, sure." He looked so content; I privately smiled.

"You really love your family." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "You're hurting them."

He looked away. "If we can keep up the acting, we'll be fine. They just want me to be happy." I didn't know what to say to that. Instead, I asked Al for Muggle money so we could pay for our coffees.

"So what kind of ring would you like?" he asked as we left the café. I felt guilt swoop into my stomach.

"Nothing that's more than ten galleons," I said quietly, feeling awkward. He looked annoyed.

"I need to get you a nice ring, or my family will kill me," he said, frowning slightly as he opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron. I bit my lip uneasily.

"I don't care. You're spending a lot of money on this for a marriage that's going to end soon. I don't like it."

_I'm not worth it._

Al stopped to look at me, looking thoroughly confused. "What kind of Slytherin are you, anyway?"

"I –"

I was almost grateful when a disembodied voice sprang out of the shadows, a deep, masculine voice shouting, "Albus Potter!" A short man stepped in front of us, brandishing a large, black camera. The bulb flashed brightly in my face, and I blinked.

Oh, _wonderful. _Picture time. Absolutely lovely.

Al groaned quietly from beside me. "Bloody paparazzi," he mumbled to me from the corner of his mouth. I clenched my eyes shut as the flash went off, automatically stepping closer to Al.

"What do you want?" he asked the man irritably, squinting as the camera flashed again.

"What is your opinion of the new law? Is your father around to comment?" The man shifted his gaze to me, eyes lighting up as bright as the flashes of light. "Who is this?"

My eyes shot open in fear. I didn't think about the publicity at _all_. I don't want our marriage to be known to the entire wizarding world. I didn't even want to get married! I glanced quickly at Al, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

Al grasped my hand firmly and glared at the reporter.

Well, _someone _had made their decision.

"My fiancée."

Gently pushing the reporter aside with his other hand, he lead me to the back of the pub. At this, the man gleefully spun around and snapped another picture, catching us before our backs turned. I shielded my eyes with one hand as Al dragged me out to the back.

"How do you handle that?" I asked a little breathlessly, rubbing my eyes from the bright lights. Al shut the door and tapped on the bricks, opening the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"I dunno," he said carelessly, returning his wand back to his jeans and watching the bricks clear. We entered the busy streets, Al pulling my hand and leading me to a nearby jewellery store. The knot in my stomach tightened.

This oughta be fun.

* * *

"I _refuse_," I told him stubbornly, arms crossed and head shaking. "I _refuse _to wear that, it's too expensive." Al looked bewildered for some reason.

It's not that hard to understand. It means no.

"Goyle," he argued, growing rather impatient, "this ring is only twenty galleons."

I didn't look at him. Paying for coffee was fine. Paying twenty galleons was too much.

"Look, this is the cheapest thing in the store," he said firmly, pointing to the silver band in the glass counter, "and my relatives are going to kill me for not getting something fancier." I shook my head again.

"Emily," he tried awkwardly, his stare intent, never leaving my eyes as he pointed to ring beside the silver one. "That ring is just a bit nicer, right? Acceptable to our families and it won't make me look like the cheapest guy in the world?"

I closed my eyes. "Forget it." If my eyes were open, I'm sure I would see a dirty expression directed towards me.

Whatever. It wasn't as if I haven't gotten that before.

Well, not from _him_. I'd only really known him for a few hours.

"Emily, do you know why I'm helping you?" he asked relentlessly, sounding as though he were trying to keep himself from exploding. I shrugged, keeping my eyes tightly closed.

"It's because I have this… problem." He paused. "I have a need to help people. My Aunt Hermione says that my dad had the same problem when he was our age. It's called the hero's complex or something."

I was shocked. He mentioned his ex-girlfriend at some point earlier, but I didn't really care so much about that. It seemed to be a reason that made sense for normal, seventeen-year-old guy – if you could call Al normal, anyway.

I'd learned in those past few hours that he was really… odd. He actually delighted in making me feel uncomfortable, and he laughed at everything. I don't know how this guy is so _laid back _all the time.

It's… different.

"If we're going to do this for your family, we're doing this properly," he continued. "Could you just_ look _at it?" I opened one eyelid and peeked at the golden ring, embedded with diamonds, and my breath caught.

I loved it.

"It's beautiful," I said softly, opening the other eyelid. He broke into a small smile until I said, "That's why you can't buy it." His mouth fell open.

"Emily! You like it!" he said exasperatedly, though not loudly. I shrugged.

"Yeah, so?"

"Then you should let me buy it for you," he replied encouragingly. I closed my eyes again.

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"It'll be really convincing."

"I don't care."

"Please?"

"No."

"My parents –"

"I don't care what your parents say!" I opened my eyes to see amusement settling in his eyes.

"You should," he stated, trying not to laugh. "They're your in-laws now." My eyes widened.

Harry Potter and Ginny Potter are my in-laws. They're famous, they're war heroes, they're Potters, and I'm going to be related to them. Harry-_freaking_-Potter.

I took a step back. "I don't think so." Al pulled at his hair in frustration.

"Only you could frustrate me this much," he moaned. I smirked.

"What about your ex-girlfriend?" I inquired slyly, tilting my head a little. His eyes darkened and his jaw set tightly.

"I don't want to go to any more stores. Can you please just let me get this for you?" he insisted through gritted teeth. I looked away.

"You can't. It's even more expensive than the others," I replied, avoiding his gaze.

"It's only fifty –"

"You can't, I'll never be able to pay you back –"

"Emily!"

"– and I fully intend on doing so, after this whole thing blows over and I finish healing school, because I won't ask my parents to pay for _any _of this –"

"Em." My head snapped up mid-blabber and looked into his shining, pleading eyes.

"Don't call me that," I said in a low, trembling voice. I felt as if the room had become too warm for my liking. I tugged on the insides of my gown sleeves and tore my eyes away from his.

He opened his mouth to reply when a brown fur ball flew in through the open door, a letter clasped in its feet. As it came closer, I realized it was really a small, brown messenger owl from the Ministry. A feeling of dread gathered in me as the letter dropped on the glass counter. I picked it up with shaking hands. It was addressed to me.

"Open it," Al urged quietly after a moment, nudging me with his elbow. I cleared my throat but made no effort to open it. There was no _way _I was opening that. No good could come from the Ministry at this point.

He seemed to sense this and eased the envelope from me, ripping it open quickly. He slid the parchment back in my hands and opened it. I scanned it quickly before crushing it in a fist.

"They're calling my family for questioning," I whispered, suddenly dizzy. I gripped the counter very abruptly, afraid to lose balance as the room spun before me. Al looked alarmed as I tried to breathe deeply and not burst into tears again.

This was happening. This was _actually _happening. The Ministry was actually calling me and my family. They were going to question us in court with a billion Dementors floating around, making the room more dark and icy than it already was.

They were going to take one look at my father's left arm, the Dark Mark, and send us to our deaths. There wouldn't be a search of his criminal records. They wouldn't ask him what he'd been doing since the war was over. There wouldn't even be any questions, which is pretty misleading, if you ask me. He'd be the first one to go, and my mother and I were going to follow him.

I hadn't even done anything.

Until that point, it seemed as if I were in some kind of denial – but I wasn't. I knew this was happening; that's why I'd been crying the entire day. But I'd also been running away, trying to pretend that this was all okay if I just married Potter. How did we even know this was going to work?

"Goyle." Al's voice floated from far away, penetrating my senses and waking me. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and slowly looked to him, swaying slightly.

"Yes?" I answered, my voice coming out raspy and shaky. He grasped my shoulders and held me still, surveying my closely through his glasses and lowered his voice as he did so.

"We have a _cover_," he whispered fiercely. "That's why we're here, remember?" I nodded but didn't feel any better, and Al could sense it. He lifted one hand from me and ran it through his hair, absent-mindedly squeezing my shoulder tightly with his other hand. "We have a plan, don't we?"

I tore my gaze away from him. "You never told me." His face fell.

Great. The git never had a plan in the first place.

"I guess we really don't know what we're doing," I guessed, biting my lip uneasily, my fears confirmed. His expression told me all I needed to know.

Al let go of me and went to speak to the shopkeeper. They walked back to the counter, and I stepped away, my heart still beating a hundred times a second. "This one, right Emily?" Al confirmed, glancing at me as he spoke. I couldn't answer.

I didn't want a stupid ring. I just wanted to have made sure I didn't spend my entire life in school. I wanted to become a healer and marry someone I love and start a family.

_I didn't want this._

"Emily?" My head snapped up to see both Al and the grey-haired lady holding up the more expensive ring. I couldn't believe that my entire future could be held in that stupid, stunning gold ring.

It needed to be believable, but I didn't want it to be.

"This one, right?" Al asked again, rather impatiently this time.

I could only nod.

* * *

"EMILY!" I was, for a lack of a better word, attacked as soon as I stepped through Al's front door. Scorpius' arms wrapped around me and squeezed the breath out of me, and I felt about ten times better.

"Scorp!" I squeaked in pain, pushing his shoulders back and away from me. "Let go!"

He gripped harder, and Al sniggered before walking past us and into his house.

Gits. _Both _of them.

"Em, did you get the letter?" he asked quickly, pulling away and peering at me closely. "I was so worried you ran away with Potter and wouldn't come back or something – we have to be at the Ministry tomorrow." He stepped back another foot and glanced up and down, frowning slightly. "Why are you still wearing your graduation robe?"

I rolled my eyes. "I hadn't gotten a chance to go home – what's wrong?" I faltered immediately upon looking into his bright blue eyes. They looked sad, and – _gulp_– disappointed.

You know your friend is worried _when…_

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly. Guilt surged through me again, and I looked down to my shoes.

"I can explain?" I offered weakly, unable to look him in the eye. He crossed his arms.

"Go right ahead," he said reproachfully. Looking around, I saw Albus speaking to my father, not too far away. I lowered my voice.

"You know how –"

"EMILY GOYLE!"

I am _so _glad I don't have a middle name. It could be used to the advantage of my mother, and, I suppose, my mother-in-law.

I grimaced at the sound of my mother's voice as she strode towards me, pushing Scorp slightly aside. He jumped and gave me a look at that clearly said, '_we'll talk later_' before walking back to Rose.

I thought quickly as my mother approached me, anger burning in her eyes. When my parents arrived earlier, I thought I was done for, but they'd only guilt tripped me.

And it worked.

I was absolutely sure they'd spoken to Al's parents by then, and were planning to overthrow the wedding somehow. I wasn't sure how – I mean, we were both seventeen and of age, so they really couldn't stop us – but they're our _parents_.

I swear, they have super powers or something.

I had to somehow distract my mum, to get her on my side. If I had Mum on my side, I'd have my dad there, too. Yes, Mum wears the pants in my house – and my dad, being in Slytherin, doesn't even care! They're so in love, it's sickening.

_I want that,_ I thought wistfully, thinking of them, but I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind. It was time for_ action_, not for second thoughts. Making up my mind, I jumped to embrace my mother tightly, completely catching her off guard.

Excellent.

"Mum, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you!" I wailed loudly, startling half the Potter-Weasley family on the first floor. I squeezed my mom's neck and felt instantly better as she reluctantly wrapped her arms around me and patted my back. There was something comforting about a mother's hug that you couldn't get from anyone else.

"Em, why are you crying?" she asked, leaning back and taking my face, glistening with tears, in her hands.

_Good question, Mum._

"I just feel so guilty," I answered. "It must have been such a surprise, and I really wish I'd told you sooner." Mum looked at me closely, searching for traces of a lie. Luckily for me, I mastered the art of lying long, long time ago.

"You never cry," she pointed out, wiping my tears with her hands. "You must be so happy, Em, especially with the new law. You get to be married before… well, all of this." She let out a watery chuckle, and I realized that she too was crying.

Shit. I never could stand to see my mother cry.

She gave me another tight squeeze, successfully draining my of any energy I gained from drinking the disgusting coffee. "You two must really love each other." My eyes wandered to Al.

_Gag._

All right, so that wasn't really fair. He was actually a very attractive guy, and at least I know we can get along, despite the fact that we were already fighting, and we'd just met. Plus, it seemed that my father approved, because they were shaking hands.

But still. Ugh.

"Thanks, Mum," I mumbled into her shoulder, disappointed that tears were threatening to fall again. I'm a Slytherin, for goodness sakes! I'm tough. I'm not supposed to cry. I stepped back, and my mother's arms lingered at my shoulders.

"We'll talk to Albus' parents tomorrow and work everything out," she promised, looking happy. "The wedding will be like a graduation present." I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and tried to smile.

"Did you find a ring?" I nodded, bringing my hands to my ears quickly as loud squeals erupted through the house. I ducked slightly, trying to avoid the mob of girls trying to see the glinting ring.

Al caught my eye and smirked. I glared back.

And so it began.

* * *

It took a good half an hour to get away from Al's house. My parents, as it turned out, were so "charmed" by Al that they insisted his family come to dinner. I took it as code for the talk we were inevitably going to have.

It was going well, overall. As the meal finished and our parents drank wine and began to discuss (what else?) the new law, I excused myself to my room. I didn't want to risk my parents finding out the connection between the marriage and the law.

In my room, I opened my school trunk that Hogwarts had sent to my house and promptly emptied it with a flick of my wand. I was surprised by how much had gathered over the years; broken quills, a hairbrush or two, ripped pieces of parchment, notes that my friends and I had written in class, candy wrappers and heaps of clothes and books.

Basically: a_ lot _of junk.

"Are you a pack rat?"

I didn't need to turn around to know it was Al. "Potter, you might want to try opening your _own _trunk." He crossed my room and sat down beside me, pressing his hands behind him and into the white carpet lining the floor.

"That's probably true. I think there's some barf in there from when one of my roommates was drunk and threw up in it." I spared him a look before sifting through my things.

"That's disgusting."

"I was_ joking_," he countered, his eyes twinkling. "You might want to try it sometime."

I sighed and took a stack of uniforms and set them onto a shelf in my closet. I felt Al's gaze following me, and sure enough, I spun back around and he was staring at me.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," I shot scathingly at him. He looked almost disappointed.

"Goyle, that's the oldest one in the book."

"Does it look like I care?" Silence followed my words, and I regretted them. I was tired and just wanted to collapse on my bed and sleep for the rest of the night. Instead, I continued cleaning my trunk and sorting my things.

"You have to be at the Ministry tomorrow, right?" he asked curiously as I banished the garbage at the bottom of my trunk. I pointed my wand towards my cauldron before answering.

"Yeah. Are you coming?" I asked, levitating my cauldron to another shelf in my closet. He shook his head.

"No, we'll see how it goes, first." Inexplicable fear lurched at my stomach, but I ignored it and focused on his gaze. He looked around the room, surveying the bare walls and the bed. "Yellow?"

"My favourite colour," I replied absent-mindedly, stacking some books onto my bookshelf.

"I thought it would be green. Isn't yellow a Hufflepuff colour?" I rolled my eyes and tossed a book his way.

"That would be igniting old prejudices," I told him, a smile tugging at my lips. He raised an eyebrow, and I let out a laugh.

"It's just a bright colour. If I put green in here, it'd look disgusting." Al nodded in understanding.

"Why don't you have any posters? This place looks empty, everything just yellow, yellow, yellow!" He threw up his hands playfully. "My room is covered with Quidditch –"

"I hate posters," I said, wrinkling my nose and shutting my trunk with a loud snap. Al shrugged.

"Well, that sucks. You're living in my room for a while, aren't you?" he teased maliciously. I sat on my trunk and sighed, facing his never-ending grin.

"Shut up."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to your husband." I shot him another glare. It was probably the millionth evil look for just that day.

"Does it look like I care?" I asked him again, raising my eyebrows in disbelief. He leaned forward and crossed his legs, his face inches away from mine. I bent back.

"You should care," he told me for the second time that day, genuinely smiling. "It's good for you."

And suddenly, he was standing up and walking towards the door. "As much as you love your graduation gown, I think you should change." I shot him an annoyed look.

"Why, is it because you can't see anything underneath?" I challenged, wanting to get him back for the Hufflepuff remark. To my disbelief, he only winked and shut the door behind him.

I looked down to the long, black gown. I must've looked like some kind of overgrown bat.

I looked at my room, yellow walls, yellow bed and yellow desk – and scowled at the sight for the first time. It _is _a Hufflepuff colour, but I'm not a Hufflepuff; I'm stronger than that. I'm cunning.

A few minutes later, I scoffed at myself. Merlin, it was just a bloody _colour_.

I sighed in resignation and sifted through my closet for some clothes. Change couldn't hurt, right? I graduated that morning. I was marrying_ Albus Potter_in two weeks. I was at risk of going to prison in a couple of days.

Maybe change _could _hurt… but it was inevitable.

Besides, the gown was really starting to smell.


	4. Albus: The Meeting

**Chapter Four: Albus: The Meeting**

"Al, maybe you should go back to sleep."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your head is practically in your cereal." Lily was wrong, actually. My head _was _in this bowl of chocolaty goodness.

I lifted my heavy, pounding head and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. I yawned loudly as James sauntered into the kitchen, dressed in his Quidditch jersey from school.

"Morning," he said cheerfully, grabbing a bowl and sitting down at the counter beside me. "Al, you have a milk moustache."

"Probably the only moustache he's ever going to grow," Lily said nonchalantly, sniggering as she stirred her cereal. I wiped my face and yawned again, disregarding her comment completely.

What? I was too tired to argue.

Even if it wasn't not true. I have a moustache - you just can't see it.

Yeah, I'm manly. Don't worry.

"Where are Mum and Dad this morning?" I asked them, taking in another spoonful.

"Dad's at work and Mum's at Aunt Fleur's house to plan your _wedding_," James cooed, pouring cereal into his bowl. I groaned and stuffed another mouthful of cereal. For ten precious minutes, I had completely forgotten I was going to get married in two weeks.

"How did dinner go at Goyle's?" Lily asked curiously, flipping a page of the Daily Prophet in front of her. "We didn't get to ask Mum before she left."

"Fine," I said indifferently, munching on my cereal.

Dinner went brilliantly, actually. Emily is an amazing liar. They weren't even _suspicious_.

You know what? That really sucks, now that I think about it. Now I _have _to get married.

Emily's mom was thrilled for us. She thought that I did a chivalrous act in asking Emily to marry me before she could possibly be put in prison or die so that I could always have that bond with her. Her imagination is a little crazy if you ask me – I mean, I'm a seventeen-year-old male. That was the last thing I was thinking when I suggested marriage.

I fed Emily some bull about how I've got what my Aunt Hermione calls the "hero's complex." Sure, that may have something to do with it – I definitely would _hate _to have her family die just because we have a wimp for a Minister of Magic – but I kind of wanted something out of it.

She's a Slytherin, though. She'd understand… if I ever got around to telling her.

Our parents are completely convinced we're in love, though. We did the whole eye-sex and gushing show, and I am an excellent actor, if I do say so myself. The only problem we came across was at the end of the night – when we were expected to kiss goodnight – and we just hugged. Briefly.

It was really awkward. Not even the haha-I'm-making-this-awkward-and-it's-really hilarious kind of awkward. It was more like the wow-we're-supposed-to-have-snogged-by-now-and-we're-_hugging_-and-our-parents-are-watching-and-this-is-just-too-weird-for-words.

Even our parents gave us some looks. Just wait – Mum or Dad will let James know about the hug that night and he'll make a crack about me not getting any. Our whole plan will be _ruined_, I tell you – RUINED!

Sorry. It's kind of fun being overly dramatic.

Emily's father was really nice, though. I fawned over his work at St. Mungo's (Emily had mentioned that at some point) and asked for his blessing, just like James mentioned. He granted it and now he_ loves _me.

A former Death Eater likes the son of Harry Potter.

It was a little creepy, I must admit.

"Anything good in there?" I asked Lily as she turned to the last page of the_ Prophet_. She flipped the paper over and handed it to me, grinning widely. I unfolded it and spread it on the table as she and James burst into laughter.

I don't know why they were laughing so hard. That was a pretty good picture of me.

"Three people were arrested for being related to Death Eaters and _you_made it to the headlines?" James chuckled and shook his head at me. "Pathetic."

I swallowed the last of my cereal and tore my eyes away from the picture. I've been in the paper before, but I've never made the headlines. Well, not directly – my dad has done a bunch of heroic stuff since he basically saved the whole world, so he's been on the front page and I've been mentioned – but I've never actually_ done _anything.

"Reporter cornered us in The Leaky Cauldron yesterday," I mumbled, staring into my empty bowl. My siblings didn't seem to hear me.

"Aw, Al," Lily said mockingly, peering at my face. "Are you worried about your_ fiancée_?"

"I was wondering when you were going to date again," James added with a full mouth. "Holly Birch was a bit –"

"Language, James!" called my mother as she emerged from the living room fireplace. "I was just at Bill and Fleur's, trying to find a wedding planner. I think we're just going to have to get your grandmother to plan the entire thing, Al." She set her purse down on the counter and heaved a sigh. "Two weeks isn't a long time."

"You know Mum, Al is really worried about Emily," Lily said conversationally, flashing me a wicked grin. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and settled for staring at the picture of me taking Emily's hand and pulling her out the door, again and again and again…

Ha, that was kind of funny. Emily looked terrified.

"Don't worry Al." Mum cut through my thoughts in a would-be comforting voice. "She and her mum are coming over soon to plan the wedding with us." I winced internally.

"When?" Lily asked curiously as James sent his spoon clattering in his bowl.

"In about half an hour. Al, why aren't you dressed yet?" Mum demanded as I slid off my seat.

"Mum, it's ten o'clock on a Saturday," I answered nonchalantly.

I think I'm perfectly justified here.

"Al, your fiance's going to be here!" she shot back, waving a spatula at me. "Go take a shower, you smell." I scowled ran up the stairs as Lily and James sniggered at me, looking thoroughly pleased.

I seemed to be at the butt end of their jokes those days.

It sucked.

* * *

Emily didn't bother to knock on my door when she arrived. Nope, she just opened the door and barged in loudly without a care in the world.

Okay, so she just poked her head in before entering. Same thing.

"Hey, Albus," she greeted, standing awkwardly after she shut the door behind her. "Did you see the_ Prophet _this morning?" I grimaced and gestured to the couch beside my bed, where I was currently residing.

"Yeah," I said tiredly, rubbing my eyes a little. "I didn't read the article; do you know what it says?"

She rested on the couch, avoiding my eyes. "They were mainly going on and on that the son of Harry Potter is marrying the daughter of a Death Eater." She let out a small laugh, and I raised my eyebrows.

Wow. She actually laughed, and it wasn't hysterical.

"I see you're feeling better?" I asked, relaxing a little. She seemed surprised by the change of subject.

"Not really," she admitted, looking a little sick. "I've been up half the night, worrying about today." I nodded, rolling on my back and staring at the ceiling. I tried to ignore the blatant awkwardness, hanging in front of me.

"I'm bloody tired," I commented to no one.

"You and me both," she agreed after a few moments. "Can I put my feet up on your couch?"

"Feel free," I replied, and I looked over as she stretched out on the black, leather couch. Emily inherited her father's smile. That was about the only thing she got from him; she looked stunningly like her mother, except there was something unique about her. I hadn't been able to really appreciate how pretty she actually was when she was wearing the graduation gown yesterday.

I forced my gaze back to my ceiling, trying not to stare.

"You're a true Gryffindor," she observed, staring at the posters around my room. I couldn't even see the walls anymore; there were so many pictures of lions, Quidditch teams, swords… "All these Quidditch posters make me wonder why you became a journalist."

I pointed to my bookshelf, which was stacked with notebooks and papers. "That's why," I offered, smiling at my life's work. "I have a knack for working the truth out of people."

"And lying," she added, not quite keeping the astonishment out of her voice. "Brilliant work yesterday, even _I _almost believed you." I grinned and put my arms underneath my head.

"Same to you," I said politely. "I think my proposal was very romantic, don't you?" She snorted.

"You said you proposed without a ring and made up for it by giving me _chocolate_."

"So?" I asked in amusement.

"How does a ring and a chocolate compare?"

"You love the ring," I stated, looking at her left hand, where she was playing with it.

"So?" She didn't deny it. I was getting somewhere!

"I love chocolate." The corners of her mouth lifted reluctantly.

"That's for sure," she acknowledged, looking at the multiple posters of chocolate on the walls. "But –"

"Emily, our parents loved the story, just admit it," I said teasingly.

"I'll admit it when you confess you're a pack rat," she mocked back, referring to our conversation last night. I lifted myself onto my elbow to look at her.

"I'm not." She surveyed me doubtfully, as if I were lying.

"Quit trying to act innocent." She got up and walked over to my bookshelf. "You never throw anything out, do you?"

I rolled over and walked to the bookshelf, admiring it. "I couldn't bear to throw anything I've ever written." She rolled her eyes.

"That's the definition of a pack rat," she told me, smirking. I laughed and held up my hands in resignation.

"All right, I'm a pack rat. And…?" I leaned in eagerly, and she sighed.

"Our parents loved your story," she admitted grudgingly. I grinned again and bounded back to my bed, seemingly angering her. "That doesn't mean you win, though." I lifted my head up.

"Win what?" I asked, my eyebrows scrunching together.

"I dunno," she answered, flopping back onto the couch. "Our argument?"

"We're not arguing," I said, half-questioning the situation myself. Had I missed something?

"But we're battling, somehow," she observed astutely, "and I want to win." I rolled over and faced her, feeling much like a psychologist.

"And how does that make you feel?" A pillow was thrown my way, and I turned into my back again, my head hanging off the edge of my bed.

"If it makes you feel any better, I want to win this too," I considered out loud. Hey, if we were going to battle, she's going _down_.

She smirked, glancing to the ceiling where we were – surprise, surprise – more posters.

"Knew it."

"You know, I'm kind of amazed you're allowed in my room right now," I commented, not minding that everything was upside down.

"Why?"

"Isn't your mom scared, or something? We could be doing _anything_." I grinned, knowing perfectly well of the implications coming from that statement.

She rolled her eyes. "We're going to be married in two weeks, I don't think they care. Besides, Scorpius and I have been best friends for our entire lives, and we haven't done anything." I blanched.

"Not even once?" I asked in wonder. She shook her head, wrinkling her nose as she did so.

"Of course not. He's my brother," she said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

I nodded, thinking of last night. "So what if I were to suggest that we practice snogging?"

Merlin, she falls a lot.

Emily emerged, red-faced and bewildered. "Did you just say what I think you said?" I flipped over and got up from my bed, walking towards her. She took a step back.

"Yeah," I confirmed, trying not to laugh. "Our parents were suspicious of our hug last night; Mum was teasing me about it, saying that we weren't very affectionate for being in love."

That was embarrassing, to say the least. They were gawking at us the entire time!

Blush bloomed on her pale cheeks, and she tugged at her hair. "I don't think so." I sighed.

"This is just for _show_," I emphasized, taking another step towards her. She didn't step back. "Remember?"

"Yes," she said, swallowing a little, "that's why I don't think we should. Our parents can't stop us from getting married, we're of age. Furthermore," she added as I opened my mouth, "I don't want to be used."

I looked at her incredulously. "_You're _the one who's using me in the first place!" I exclaimed, and she twisted her hair more quickly. "And I don't want to use you. I just think it'll be really odd when we have to kiss in front of everyone and it'll look like it's our first time."

She looked stumped. "I don't want to." I rolled my eyes.

"Neither do I, to be honest."

"Then we don't have to?" she piped up reasonably. I ran a hand through my hair.

"But we do," I replied, raising my eyebrows at her.

"But –"

"You don't _get it_, Emily. If we're not convincing, your family _dies_." I crossed my arms in front of me as her eyes found mine for the first time that day, and she gulped.

"I'm sorry that you can't find someone to satisfy your _urges _for the time being, but I'm not doing this," she decided, crossing her arms as well. I took in a deep breath.

"I don't want to have to resort to using blackmail," I said seriously, taking another step towards her. "I could go downstairs and tell everyone _right now_." Her eyes narrowed.

"You wouldn't," she growled.

"Try me." I took another step forwards, and she pressed her back against a poster of the Chudley Cannons.

"You have the capability to be in Slytherin," she said, her voice a little wobbly. I laughed, and she relaxed a little, thinking I had given up.

Poor girl.

"The Sorting Hat agrees with you," I replied, resting my hands on the wall around her. She immediately tensed up again, her eyes flashing.

"Get away from me, Potter," she whispered, her voice a little more sure of herself.

"No, thanks," I answered quietly, leaning in a little. She shrank against the wall and began to whimper. Actually.

Merlin, I'm apparently_ attractive _to most girls!

"No, please don't!" she pleaded pressing her hands against my chest, unsuccessfully trying to push me away. She was beginning to panic – she thought I wouldn't actually do it. She knew that she couldn't attack me or I'd tell everyone, and she thought I'd never snog a girl that I've only known for a day.

And she was right.

I leaned in and kissed her nose lightly, making her jump up in surprise.

"Told you it'd be awkward!" I said happily as she opened her eyes, completely shocked and spluttering incoherently.

"You – you just –"

"I'd never kiss you without your permission, okay?" I said genuinely, leaning back from the wall and crossing my arms, my face still inches from hers. "But we're going to have to practise sometime, and you know it."

She took a deep breath. "We don't –"

"We're too_ awkward_," I said, our noses brushing against each other. Her brown eyes flashed with decision and she stomped on my foot, storming out of my room a few seconds later.

I whistled optimistically as I followed her, sticking my hands in my pockets and smiling at her back. She glanced back, her cheeks still red. I laughed.

Hey, she was growing on me.

* * *

I didn't care what colour the napkins are. They could be invisible, or better yet, _nonexistent._ What was wrong with plain old _white_? Why was I even making these decisions in the first place?

"They don't match the tablecloth, Al." I glared daggers at my mum as Scorpius Malfoy fell out of our fireplace.

_Oh, look! Santa's here!_

… I couldn't believe I thought that. Even in my mind, that was sad. Santa was a fictional character made up by Muggles – and they believe in it, too! How daft can they get?

Besides, Santa had a white beard. Malfoy was clearly a blonde.

He glanced over to me, looking distraught and tired. His hair stuck out in odd places, and his clothes were littered with soot. With a jolt, I realized that this was the person my best friend (and favourite cousin) was going to marry.

I've never really had an opinion of Rose and Malfoy's relationship. I don't think anyone but Uncle Ron really cared all that much – and even _he _calmed down and listened to Aunt Hermione after a while. I suppose the only person shocked about his proposal was Rose; I mean, one minute, he was studying and the next, he was leaning down on one knee!

Isn't it awesome that I didn't have to have to kneel down and look like a complete prat, even if women really seem to like that? It was a pretty great deal, if you think about it.

You know, if I didn't have to put up with Emily.

But she wasn't so bad. I'd love to know the skeletons in her closet that she insists on hiding from me, or how she and Malfoy became such good friends.

Speaking of…

"Can I talk to Emily?" he asked me after greeting the mothers. I frowned.

"Why're you asking _me_?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes. He shrugged.

"She's your girlfriend – or fiancée, I suppose –"

"But you don't need to ask me," I interjected, still very confused. "I don't own her, in case you haven't noticed." Malfoy's eyebrows raised so high, they nearly hid in his fringe.

"You are the _only _guy who hasn't been intimidated by my friendship with Em," he said slowly, has though seeming in a whole new light. We hadn't really known each other that well, anyway.

"I don't have reason to be, do I? Anyway, Emily apparated back to her house to get something, you should probably go there," I lied easily, knowing full well what Malfoy wanted to talk about. He nodded and disappeared, just as Emily walked back into the living room.

Good timing.

"Emily!" I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the 'aww's' coming from our mothers. I pushed her back out of the room, and for the second time that day (granted, it was six hours ago), her back hit the wall.

"Al, not again," she groaned, taking my hands off her hips. "I understand we're awkward, but –"

"Not that," I cut across quickly, knowing I didn't have much time. I checked over my shoulder at the empty kitchen before speaking again. "You can't tell Scorpius about this plan, okay?"

She scoffed. "Why not? He's my best friend –"

"He'll blow it," I insisted confidently. "We need to keep this a secret between just us, okay?"

_Us_. That sounded weird.

Her shoulders drooped and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I'm probably going to talk to him while we're at the Ministry… where we're supposed to be in about an hour," she added, slumping against the wall.

"Are you nervous?" I asked curiously, momentarily forgetting about the rush we were in.

"Of course not," she snapped quickly. "Where's Scorpius?" I jerked back.

"Your house," I answered, "but you're going to have to think of a _really _good lie –"

"I'm a _Slytherin_," she emphasized, clearing her throat a little as made her way to the fireplace, grabbing some Floo Powder from a pot in the kitchen.

"A Slytherin whose favourite colour is yellow!" I called, smirking a little at her retreating back. I actually didn't care all that much; maybe I was just hoping that yellow was a sign that she wasn't really all that mopey when she was, well,_ normal._

Because, let's face it; I was getting married to her. I had no idea when this ordeal was going to end – it could've been _years_, for all I knew.

I shuddered at the thought as I made my way outside. I needed a run.

"Al, don't leave, we haven't picked the colour of the napkins!"

I made sure to slam the door.

* * *

"We still have _so much _to do." Mum was still conversing with Emily's mum when I came back from my run an hour later.

"I know, but I have to be at the Ministry very soon," Mrs. Goyle answered mournfully as Mum searched for a small piece of parchment. I filled a glass with water as they exchanged phone numbers.

Whoa, we were going to use the Muggle telephone? Awesome!

… why would a pureblood family have a telephone? The only reason _we _had a telephone is because of Uncle Dudley. We used to jump on his stomach when we were tiny little midgets.

Good times.

"… and you'll be able to talk on the phone with Emily too, before she moves here!"

Whoopee.

No, really. I was dancing with joy.

"Great," I replied politely, draining my glass with one last gulp.

"You know, Emily loves to run as well," Mrs. Goyle said thoughtfully, eying my sweaty clothing. I tried not to reveal my surprise.

"I know," I answered, putting my glass in the sink. "We used to go running all the time at Hogwarts. In secret," I added hastily.

"I wish you two would have waited to get married," Mum sighed, running a hand through her hair. "We could use the time." An idea suddenly struck me.

"We could have a really small wedding," I suggested hopefully. "Just us, Emily's family, Uncle Ron –"

"Can't," Mum cut in gloomily. "Aunt Muriel knows about it." My stomach lurched. That woman's going to outlive _Dumbledore_.

So much for that idea.

"Never mind, then," I mumbled, hoisting myself onto a chair. Mrs. Goyle accepted the parchment and a hug from my Mum before disapparating with a _crack_.

_Crack_. My father appeared, apparently home from work.

"Evening, Dad," I called to him. He pecked Mum's cheek before giving her a look. She nodded, escaping up the stairs. I frowned.

What was going on?

"Al, I think we need to have a little talk." He surveyed me closely as he spoke.

Well, that's never good.

"Sure, Dad," I answered, trying not to sound too nervous. "What's up?" Dad put his briefcase onto the counter and sat down beside me, dead silent. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words.

_Where's the dictionary? There's one around here _somewhere…

"You're getting married," is what he settled with. I frowned again. _Interesting choice of words._

"In two weeks," he continued. I decided to stop being a thesaurus and listen to him.

"Marriage is a lot of responsibility," he said after a moment. "It's a very important bond, Albus. You can't just break it, and as you're seventeen, I understand you may not realize the full extent of this. Nevertheless," he added, looking at my sternly, "I can't stop you from making these sort of decisions about your life." I nodded, swallowing a little.

"I'm really sure about this, Dad," I began, wincing internally. I hated lying to my father. "I mean, I have a good job at the _Prophet_, and I really love her."

He put his head in his hands. "I can tell."

He _can_?

Oh, right. We were acting.

Bloody talented, too.

"It's just the new law; I really want to marry her before anything happens, you know?"

I could've slapped myself in the face. Mentioning the law? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Are you worried?" he asked, lifting his head.

Sure.

"Very," I half-lied. I was a_ little _worried. What if the plan didn't work?

"You're growing up," he commented quietly, drumming his fingers on the counter. I nodded absent-mindedly.

"You must be intimate." I choked on my own spit.

This conversation had become a whole lot more awkward than a few seconds before.

"You'll probably want to move out soon, right?" Dad added as an afterthought, staring off into space. "Probably an apartment; you won't be able to afford a house yet, but the _Prophet_will pay you a bit more later…"

"Dad, it's not like that!" I choked out, gasping for air. He looked amused, slapping my back and trying not to smile so widely at my reaction.

I'm practically _dying_ here from a lack of cooperation between my lungs and wind pipe, and he's _smiling_?

"All right," he said, eyes sparkling. He picked up his briefcase and headed upstairs. I sat there for a few moments, trying not to let embarrassment creep up my back.

_Crack_. I slid off the chair and spun around, meeting the angry eyes of Scorpius Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, completely bewildered. "You're supposed to be at the Ministry in ten minutes, aren't you?"

Instead of answering, he stepped forward and punched me, square in the jaw.

Well, that was kind of rude.

_Crack_. Emily appeared as I fell, clutching my face and swearing at the top of my voice. Malfoy stood over me, hatred blazing outwardly as Emily gripped his arms from behind.

"That's for getting her pregnant," he spat maliciously, and apparated promptly from the scene.

Wait. _Pregnant_?

Emily helped me up, looking worried. My parents' voices called from upstairs, but I took no notice; I could only stare into her terrified eyes as she pleaded with me.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried frantically. "This is all my fault, I told him not to overreact, but evidently, he doesn't listen to instructions all that well –"

"Goyle," I cut across in a whisper, my voice frightened and urgent. "Are you pregnant?"

She bit her lip, and I swore.


	5. Emily: The Talk

**Chapter Five: Emily: The Talk**

"What do you mean you're _leaving_?" I asked in disbelief.

"I have to work," Al answered uncertainly. "It's Monday."

"Oh," I replied, biting my lip and clenching the phone tightly. "You mean… I didn't realize… your family –"

"You'll be fine." I could hear sounds in the background as he made his breakfast. Various utensils hit a sink loudly as he went on. "My family won't kill you, don't worry –"

"What makes you think I'm worried?" I said immediately, straightening up and pushing myself off the wall I was leaning on. "I'm not worried at all. This is going to be _peachy_."

Had I just said _peachy_?

"Did you just say peachy?" he asked in an amused voice. "Anyway, I don't know why you keep denying these things. I bet you're pacing around the room just thinking about it.

I froze my legs. That was a little creepy. "I am _not_–"

"And now you're lying," he guessed correctly. "Honestly, Emily, it's not a big deal."

I sighed. "I just don't know your family, and Scorpius is still angry with me, not to mention you –"

"Of all the things you could've told him, you had to tell him you were _pregnant_?"

"I had a blonde moment," I said nonchalantly, "but that's not the point –"

"You're not even _blonde_–"

"Scorpius is still angry with me," I cut across impatiently. "We never fight."

There was a pause. "You guys are really strange," Al contemplated out loud. "Rose and I fight once a _week_."

I rolled my eyes. "Not helping, Al."

"Well," he answered, a smile hinting in his voice, "Scorpius and Rose want to talk to us about something. Does that help?"

I perked up. "About what?"

"Probably the fact that you shouldn't ever get drunk around me?"

"Oh, _real funny_, Al," I spat, resisting the urge to throw the phone across the room. "I wish I'd told Scorpius the truth."

"Then why did you tell him you were _pregnant_?" he asked, sounding strained. "You couldn't have come up with a better lie?"

"What else would result in marriage with someone I barely know?"

There was a long silence. I think he might've actually been _thinking_.

Huh. Imagine that.

"If there's an answer to that, I really can't come up with it at the moment," he said desolately, sounding defeated.

"You don't know what Rose and Scorpius want, then?"

"Nope," he answered cheerfully, clanging a spatula against the pan. "But I have a question."

"What's that?"

"Why do you own a muggle telephone?"

I frowned. "My mum is muggleborn."

He sounded bewildered. "Your mother's _muggleborn_? But isn't your father a Death Eater?"

"_Was_ a Death Eater," I responded icily, narrowing my eyes and staring out the window. "_Was._"

"Yeah, yeah, but how did that happen?" he inquired, sounding genuinely interested.

"I really don't think that's any of your business," I replied, crossing my arms in front of me and focusing outside on a family walking by. I heard him exhale in disappointment.

"Anyway, the reason I called was because I wanted to hear about last night at the Ministry." The second he mentioned it, my stomach clenched uncomfortably.

"Last night?" I squeaked. "What for?"

If I could see him, I was sure I would be seeing the incredulous look upon his face.

"Believe it or not, I _am _part of this plan," he said exasperatedly. "Rose didn't tell me anything."

I scratched my head. "Why?"

"Well, I applied for the job in April –"

"Why didn't Rose tell you anything?" I interrupted. "Scorpius must've told her something last night, right?"

"Probably," he mumbled through a full mouth. "I dunno, she didn't tell me. She just said she wanted to talk to us."

My stomach squirmed uncomfortably. "Right."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"Last night, Emily. Stop avoiding the question." His voice was stubborn.

I took deep breath, walking through the empty halls of my house. "The Ministry doesn't believe me," I said shakily. "They're calling me back a day after our wedding."

"Oh." I could hear him chewing quietly. "That's not so bad, I suppose –"

"They want you there with me." He choked.

"Me?" he asked, gasping for air in between coughs. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, definitely." I paused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," he answered, trying to recompose his cool demeanour. "What are they going to do?"

"Questioning so far," I said, staring blankly at the fridge. "My father… well, they're not too keen on making exceptions for him." I tried to keep my voice still, but it was quivering.

"Don't worry, he'll be –"

"Aw, look, James! Al's talking on the phone with _Emily_."

"Lily, they're getting _married_. We've got plenty of other material to use."

I pulled the fridge door open, smiling a little as the lump in the back of my throat disappeared. "Al, are those your siblings?"

"Yep." I heard a clatter in the background as he dropped something else into the sink.

"Al, don't leave!" Lily cried, her voice coming closer and closer to the phone. There was a slight pause, a _thump_, followed by a groan from Al. I laughed lightly.

"Did Lily just jump on you?" I asked in an amused voice. He grunted in response, and I heard Lily squeal.

"James, I don't think he can hold up two people!"

"Of course he can," James stated matter-of-factly, the grin evident in his voice. "If he's getting married, he can handle anything, can't he?" Al grunted again.

"I'll see you tonight, Emily –" Al began, but was interrupted again.

"Oooh, what's happening _tonight_?" James asked suggestively, almost speaking into the phone himself. "Do we get any of the juicy details?"

"Ew, I don't want details about what you guys do!" Lily wailed, her voice a little farther away from James. There was a BAM and screams of discomfort as Al (evidently) shook his siblings off his back.

"It's okay, Lily," James voiced boomed from the ground. "We can leave Al to sweet-talk Emily into _whatever _they're doing tonight." There was some giggling as they left, leaving us in silence.

Well, this is awkward. Thank goodness we didn't have to fake having sex.

No, we did not _actually do it_!

Al cleared his throat loudly. "I have to go to work."

"Right," I replied, grabbing a carton of milk on impulse. "Are you going to be there, to help with the plans and all?"

I heard him climbing stairs. "I… no. I'll be back late tonight. Probably won't see you." He paused again. "Bye."

"Bye," I answered, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

* * *

"Green."

You know, I wish Al was around for at least _some _of the time. I barely know anyone but my mother, and let's face it – she, Ginny Potter and Hermione Weasley have become their own version of the 'Golden Trio.' They're completely dissociating me from their conversations, unless they want my opinion.

And half the time, I'm left wondering why they asked for it in the first place.

"No, I don't think green in _quite _right, Emily."

See what I mean?

"Alright, then," I answered wearily, rubbing my eyes. One week until the wedding, and we were still discussing _colour schemes_. The Moms (as I like to call them) were preparing a _huge_ order – and when I say huge, I mean gigantic. Tremendous. _Enormous._

Merlin, it's the size of the freaking_ globe_.

"Can I go for a run _now_?" I asked desperately, looking to the three of them, surrounded by magazines and papers. My mom had the decency to glance at me. Fleetingly.

"Don't you want to pick out your dress?" she asked curiously, searching through a stack of magazines. "I'm sure there's something here you can pick…"

"_Bloody_– no," I stated, feeling horrified. I stood up quickly, giving their living room one last look before deciding to run for it – after all, it was like a tornado came through the place.

I'm dead serious.

The Moms didn't bother looking up. Not even my soon-to-be mother-in-law. Not even my _own _mother.

"Well, I'm going," I called hesitantly, backing out of the room.

No reply.

"I really am!" I called, more loudly this time.

"I think we'd better go with this agency, the other one looks a little suspicious."

I rolled my eyes, backing out of the room and shaking my head in disbelief.

At least I got to go running.

"Oof!" I had ended up colliding with something as I was blindly backing out of the room (yep, I'm _really _smart…). I spun around quickly, mumbling a rushed apology into a head of red hair.

"I'm so sorry!" I cried, steadying Rose Weasley by putting my hands in either side of her shoulders. "I should really watch where I'm going –"

"No, it's fine," she replied, smiling warmly as I let go of her. "I was wondering if we could talk?" She waited expectantly as I mulled it over. My face was contorted in surprise.

Al told me over the phone that she and Scorpius wanted to talk. That was a week ago – why would it take so long? And why wasn't Scorpius there, also talking to me? Better yet, why wasn't Weasley speaking to _Al_? Weren't they best friends?

Then it occurred to me that I just might find some answers if we talked. _Just maybe_.

But I really_ did _want to run…

"Do you want to come running with me?" I blurted out. She practically beamed in delight at my words.

"Of course, I go running with Al all the time!" She bustled into the hallway, looking very flustered. She must have been as nervous as I was.

I couldn't imagine _why_, however.

"Do you mind if we just drop by my house?"

"Sure," I answered. "Where is it?"

"Just down the road," she responded as we stepped out of the house and into the heat. We hadn't had rain for days; it seemed as if the sun was burning a hole into the earth, never letting up. I longed for some humidity, my throat burning after only a few moments of being outside.

Or maybe just ice cream. That would do the trick!

So much for living in London.

"So," I said loudly, eagerly interrupting the awkward silence. "I thought Scorpius wanted to talk as well?"

She bit her lip. "He's still angry. I guess it's not every day his best friend is pregnant with his fiancée's cousin's baby."

I frowned. "Well, when you put it like _that_–"

"You're not angry that I know you're pregnant, are you?" she cut in nervously. "Scorpius just had to talk to someone about it all –"

"No, of course not; I _expected_ him to tell you," I answered honestly. "Just as long as the parents don't know..." I trailed off, internally grimacing. If my parents found out the lie I had told Scorpius, I'd be as good as dead. My dad's a _Healer_.

I looked at Weasley from the corner of my eye, squinting from the searing glare of the sunlight. "Do you think I'm an awful person?"

She dug out a key from her shorts as we neared her home. "For what?"

"Well, it's your cousin's baby," I lied easily. "I wouldn't want you thinking wrongly of me, or assume I'm some sort of slag."

"Scorpius isn't friends with just anyone," she said carefully, opening the door and walking inside. "You and Al were both drunk; it was a mistake."

"Exactly," I agreed, following her up the stairs towards her room. I felt a wave of relief wash over me; it was like a breeze in this drought that had lifted the worry off my shoulders.

Because Rose Weasley was the star of the Golden Trio's children. She was a prefect, Head Girl, top of every class and respected by everyone. If it was possibly, she was even more loved for dating (and marrying) Scorpius. She was the perfect rebel, which is why I felt a_ little _more than nervous in her presence.

We stepped into her room, and I furrowed my eyebrows. There were brown boxes scattered everywhere on the floor and furniture; the purple walls were bare, the closest empty and the shelves were littered with dust.

"I'm sure there are trainers around here _somewhere_," she muttered, shifting the nearest open box and rummaging through it. "Mind helping?"

"What are you for packing for?" She froze immediately, then straightened to her fullest height. She bit her lip again.

What was going on?

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, facing me anxiously.

"Packing?" I asked. "I'm not running away anytime soon –"

"No, that's not it!" she corrected quickly, looking horrified at the thought. "Scorpius and I want you and Al to move in with us after you get married.

I blinked, not quite comprehending what she was offering. "Come again?"

She launched into explanation. "We bought a townhouse using a few loans from Gringotts, and we realized soon after that we wouldn't be able to pay back the loans on our own." I nodded in understanding.

"Then why wait a week to talk to us?"

"Just to make sure of everything," she explained. "We thought we'd be able to afford with only Scorpius' salary, but we can't. Not yet. And, well…" She bit her lip again. I was beginning to wonder if it was a nervous habit. "Scorpius needed to cool down a bit."

I crossed my arms, feeling my mood drop considerably. "But if he's still upset, then why couldn't you talk to me before – oh." Then I understood what was going on, why Rose was so nervous when talking to me and why _exactly _it had taken a week for her to get up the nerve.

What a waste of time. Scorpius holds grudges like old women.

Why do you think we didn't fight all that often?

"There was absolutely no_ way _Scorpius would have forgiven me in time for you to get out of it," I said to Weasley, slightly amused.

"Get out of what?"

"Get out of speaking to me?" I uncrossed my arms. "That was the problem, wasn't it?"

"No," she denied, shaking her head. "It's just that he's more comfortable around you than I am –"

"You don't want me to live with you guys." I spoke the words bluntly, and I could tell it was the truth. "You wanted to prolong asking as long as you could, in case there was some other way to pay the loans.

She looked guilty and embarrassed. "You guys are _really _close, Goyle."

"Rose." I bit out the unfamiliar name. "He loves you."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"Scorpius," I clarified, smiling at the thought. "He's so in love with you, it's sickening." Her face broke into the most genuine smile I had seen all day.

"He is?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course," I stated matter-of-factly. "He never shuts up about you. I bet he has a secret shrine dedicated to you, Rose Weasley. Besides," I added exasperatedly, "he asked to _marry_ you, for Merlin's sake! In a_ library_!"

Her face was lit like a Christmas tree. "I've just never been absolutely sure. I didn't want this to be some sick game where he used me to get you interested." I sighed, rubbing my temples wearily.

I never thought _Rose Weasley _would be so insecure.

"Some people play that sort of game," I contemplated dropping my hands, "but not Scorpius." I locked gazes with her. "He's loved you since he met you, even if he didn't know it at the time. It's never been me."

Her wide, blue eyes broke away from mine. "I guess I've always been jealous of you," she admitted half-heartedly. "I'm sorry."

I waved a hand. "Don't be. All his girlfriends have been jealous. Besides," I added, grinning, "it'd be awkward if it _was _me, because I've never been in love with him."

"I'm sure if you traced your family tree, you two would be distantly related," she reasoned, her smile so big I was surprised it didn't hurt. "Pureblood, right?"

I shrugged. "From my dad's side, yeah."

She turned back to a nearby box, looking for her running shoes again. "Have you and Al discussed living arrangements yet?"

"I just assumed I'd be living at his house," I answered, digging through the adjacent box. It was a good assumption, because let's face it: the last time I talked to Al properly was on the phone about a week before.

He was avoiding me.

I got the feeling he was the sort of person that was aware of his surroundings and took his time to prepare himself to confront it. He was probably still in shock from knowing the Ministry wants to cross-examine him. He didn't want me – or anyone – to see his shock, or his worries.

Which is fine – really.

So he was avoiding me.

And it was _stupid_. Weren't we supposed to be getting married in a week? He was hiding at work all week, not to mention the weekend. Even if it's a set-up, you would think that he'd want to discuss the plan, or what we were going to say to the Minister of Magic.

But we're not going to practise snogging. I swear, all seventeen-year-old boys are overly hormonal.

I _did _assume I was going to be staying at his house; heck, I'm practically living there anyway, planning this wedding! That would cost less, and besides, have you any idea how much this wedding costs?

All those galleons. Wasted.

"Rose, I'm not exactly working for money yet," I told her. "I'm starting an internship at St. Mungo's in July, and they don't pay me until I start Healing School this September."

"That's alright, I don't earn any money either," she assured. "Scorpius and Al are both working full time, and that's enough to pay for the house. I'm working at St. Mungo's as well."

My eyes bugged out. "You_ are_?"

"Yes," she answered cheerfully, "and with Scorpius playing Quidditch for the Chudley Cannons, they might –"

"Actually win a game," I interrupted, giggling at the prospect. I was so proud of Scorpius.

"Exactly," she agreed, eyes twinkling. "They might give him a raise!"

"That'd be helpful," I said, finding a pair of bright purple trainers that matched the colour of room. I raised an eyebrow. "You really like purple, don't you?"

She blushed. "Yeah. It's too bad it clashes with my hair," she said mournfully, gesturing to her bright red 'Weasley' locks. I chuckled and threw the shoes to her.

"What are you thinking, then?" she asked, sitting down on her dusty, hardwood floor and pulling on the shoes.

"About what?"

"Moving in with us." She fumbled with her shoelaces. "We really need the help."

"Why don't you ask your parents?" I asked curiously, staring down at her. "I'm sure they'd be fine with paying for your house."

"They're already paying for Healing School, actually. I don't want them to pay for more."

Understandable. That was almost exactly like my predicament.

Creepy. Maybe we have more in common than I'd originally thought.

Oh Merlin, PAYMENT! What was I going to do about payment? I didn't even want Al to pay for an _engagement ring_, let alone paying for us to live in a house!

Shit.

"I know Scorpius is angry with you," she said, standing up and striding out of her bedroom, "but he'll get over it. I know he'd love for you and Al to move in."

I fidgeted with my hands uneasily as I followed her down the stairs. "Err, actually –"

"And if you have me here, you won't have to worry about parents finding out about your pregnancy, right?" My jaw dropped in realization.

Forget pregnancy – they wouldn't have to find out the plan. They wouldn't find out that we're faking this entire marriage!

Not to mention, if we had a _house_, the Ministry was more likely to believe us. Owning a house is serious.

Bloody hell. It could actually work.

"Do you – do you really think that two incomes would support the cost?" I asked, agitated and jumpy. "For the house?"

"Definitely," Rose said casually, opening the door and facing the heat wave. "It's small and a little far out, in a newer housing development. Plus, it's a muggle home, so it doesn't cost as much."

"I guess I'll talk to Al about it. I don't know if he wants to move in."

She nodded. "That's fine, I'll talk to him too."

"When do you move?"

"In a few days," she answered, looking at me guiltily. "But I'm sure Al can take a day off!" She turned back and smiled suddenly, taking me by surprise.

I stopped, nearly bumping into her. "What?"

"Scorpius actually loves me?" she questioned, biting her lip again. "They weren't empty words?"

I grinned and bent down to tie my shoelaces. "Empty words don't come out of Scorpius."

"I really hope Al falls in love with you," she stated happily, almost skipping. "That would be absolutely perfect!"

My grin slipped off my face as I gave a final tug at my shoelace. "Merlin, I bloody well hope not," I muttered dejectedly.

There's really no room for love in this predicament, is there?

Nope. No room for love in marriage.


	6. Albus: The Rescue

**Chapter Six: Albus: The Rescue**

"You are in_ so _much trouble!"

"Okay, Mum," I answered wearily, stumbling over to the fridge and searching through it. I ignored my mother's figure, hands on her hips and looking furious. "Great."

"Albus Potter, you cannot just stagger home in the middle of the night, piss drunk and stealing from the fridge."

"Mum, I'm not drunk," I groaned, grabbing a jar of pickles and pulling it out.

"Of course you're not. I needed to dramatize this." I rolled my eyes and set the jar onto the counter with finality. "Were you at work this entire time?"

With much difficulty, I groggily open the jar and stuck a fresh pickle in my mouth. "Yep."

My mum heaved herself into a chair across the counter, surveying me closely. "Merlin, Al, you choose your own hours."

"Yep."

"Why come home at midnight?"

"Lots of work."

"That's bullshit."

"Yep."

"Albus Potter, tell me what's going on." I bit into another juicy pickle, not looking at her staring at me. I dunno if you've even been stared at by your mum, but it's just as creepy as a stalker.

And I knew _exactly _how that feels.

I swallowed the rest of the pickle. "What do you want me to say?" I said in a resigned tone.

"I want you to tell me what you're doing to Emily." I raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"You are _never _home," she said clearly through the sleepy haze, "until midnight. You're avoiding Emily, and I think it's hurting her."

I rolled my eyes at her undeniably precise statement. "That doesn't mean I'm _doing _anything –"

"That's right, it's more of what you're _not _doing," she cut in, eyes flashing dangerously. I shrugged and shoved another pickle into my mouth.

"She just needs some time to get used to the Ministry's new law," I told her, yawning widely. "She's still pretty torn up over it. Did I mention her father is on probation?"

For being half asleep, I was rather talented at coming up with excuses; heck, I was a _genius._

Mum put her head in her hands, threading them through her red hair. "You're an idiot, Al."

Okay, maybe not.

I love my Mum. She's an absolute delight.

"Thanks," I mumbled, missing my mouth with the pickle in my hand. "Can I go to bed now?"

"No." I missed my mouth again.

"Why not?" I whined, hugging the jar to my chest and letting my eyes droop. "I'll talk to her, okay? Just leave me and my pickles in peace!"

I_ think _she rolled her eyes, but I couldn't be sure. Being half asleep does that to you. It also causes the inability to properly place a pickle in my mouth.

I. Just. Kept. _Missing_!

(I got my nose that time.)

"I don't want your pickles, Al," Mum said in an amused voice, still watching my attempts to cram the pickle between my teeth while hugging a jar. "Put the pickle _in _your mouth, will you?"

WHAT DO YOU THINK I'D BEEN _TRYING _TO DO, WOMAN?

… I think I needed more sleep.

I finally shoved the pickle in between my lips, juice trickling down my chin. "I was getting there," I said with a full mouth, glaring at her and tightening my grip on the jar. Mum threw a kitchen cloth at my face.

"I think you've got more than one problem here, Al," she commended as I wiped my chin. "Other than not speaking to Emily, I mean."

"What's that?" I asked indifferently, throwing the cloth back onto the counter and swallowing another pickle whole.

"You're overworking yourself in efforts to avoid Emily."

My eyes closed willingly. "No, I'm not. Now, if you excuse me, I'm taking these pickles to bed."

"I don't understand why you're avoiding her in the first place," she continued conversationally, getting off her chair and walking over to me. "What did she do?"

"Nothing," I replied defensively, speaking through a full mouth. "What makes you think she did something?"

"Al, don't speak with your mouth full," she scolded. I shrugged and reached in for another, closing my eyes in content.

"Can't hear you, Mum," I said sleepily, still chewing. "I'm in pickle heaven."

She_ probably _rolled her eyes again. Really, it was too predictable. "Al, shut up and tell me what's going on."

I opened one eye, grinning cheekily. "If I shut up, I can't tell you what's going on," I teased loftily, biting down.

She leapt across the room and forced the jar out of my hands, ignoring my desperate protests. "Albus, tell me or say goodbye to your precious pickles!"

"Give them back!" I insisted stubbornly, launching myself at my mum. Unfortunately, she tends to be quite strong after playing Quidditch professionally.

But I was half asleep! Can you really blame me?

"_Mum_," I whined, rubbing my eyes sleepily, "do we really have to do this now?" I watched rather sadly from the ground as she quickly placed the jar back into the fridge.

"Al, I don't know why you can't just_ tell _me –"

"There's nothing to tell," I lied, standing up groggily and turning my back on her. "Emily told me I had to go to the Ministry, and I needed some time to think."

"You can't tell her that?" she asked softly. I stopped walking, not turning around. She would have seen the lie on my face, because I was too tired to try and hide it.

"You always try and hide things, Al. I'm sure she can see right through you, and you should let her."

I knew she could. That's what bugged me.

"I'm going to bed," I said quietly before marching up the stairs. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss relationships with my mum – especially one that's fake.

But Mum was right; I _had_ been avoiding Emily, but it really_ was _because I needed time to think and prepare. I knew I could get used to the idea with time. There's only so much a guy can take – I mean marriage, potential death threat and being superhero all at once? Oh, and not to mention that Emily had to fake being pregnant in front of Scorpius but not in front of the rest of the family.

BOOOOOM. Hear that? I exploded. Enjoy wading through a pile of Albus-Potter-pickle-juice-goop.

But I didn't want to think about all that anymore. I wanted to flop onto my bed and sleep.

And that's what I did after pushing my door open, removing my glasses and, without bothering to turn on the lights, I leapt into bed.

Except I didn't exactly get to the "sleep" part right away. And where I had _expected _a soft, warm bed, I encountered a body instead.

So I screamed.

And it was not girlish at _all_.

"Rose, what are you doing here?" I breathed, reaching over and shoving my glasses back on my face. "I told you, only_ I _sleep on my bed. Not Lily, not James, not even _you_–"

"I was waiting for you," she protested, "only you take so bloody _long_, Al!"

I sat up and rubbed my head defiantly. "Does my mum know you're still here? She probably forgot if you came up here earlier." Rose waved a hand carelessly.

"Definitely. I told her what was going on, and she encouraged me." I held back a scowl. My mum is just so supportive.

"Encouraged _what_?" I asked, glaring at her. She ran a hand through her red hair and bit her lip nervously. And that's when I knew something was up.

Hair?

Lip biting?

_Bollocks._

"Rose, what did you do?" I asked, lying down next to her and clenching my eyes shut. I heard her huff in annoyance as her head hit the pillow.

"Well, if you're going to be like_ that_, I'll just go and bug Lily –"

"No, no, just tell me," I said sleepily, "and if I fall asleep on you, assume your problem isn't important enough.

She crossed her arms. "I hate you."

"I'm your favourite cousin."

"I might have to re-evaluate that position."

"Nah, I know about the _dolls_." I turned over on my side to smirk at her grimaced expression.

"I thought we would never speak of that," she growled through gritted teeth. I shrugged and turned back over, exhaling at the ceiling.

"Alright, what's wrong?"

She paused before speaking, taking time to mull it over. "I have a proposal for you."

"Sorry, I'm already marrying Emily."

"Ew, Al," she answered crossly, wrinkling her freckled nose in disgust. "Stop joking around."

"Fine, fine." I let my smile fade and turned my head towards her. "What's the proposal?"

"How would you like for you to never find someone sleeping in your bed again?" I narrowed my eyes, sighing heavily.

"Considering you're already here, I don't think this proposal is working out for you."

"Shut up," she advised. "Hypothetically, you wouldn't find anyone in your bed in this plan."

"Right."

"So I _might _have suggested something to Emily –"

"Oh bloody hell, I get the point!" I interrupted, suddenly very, very frustrated. "First my mum, then you?_ I will stop avoiding her_, for Merlin's sake – you guys don't have to ambush me!" A silence followed my whispered outburst. Rose seemed a little shocked.

"You haven't been talking to her?" she asked in a small voice, searching my face with wide, questioning eyes. I mentally slapped myself.

Whoops.

"Err… no, not exactly," I said, turning my back on her. "Go away, I'm tired." She forced me shoulders back to face her, looking appalled.

"I don't think so, Al." I groaned and forced her hands off my sides. "That's awful. Tell me what's going on, right now. I'm already annoyed you didn't tell me you shagged her."

My eyes bugged out. "You _know_?"

"Scorpius told me. You deserved that punch in the face."

Oh, yeah. That hurt.

"Thanks, Rosie," I grumbled, crossing my arms and staring into the dark. "So, you talked to Emily. I thought you didn't want to talk to her."

She stiffened. "I was in denial."

"That you were."

"I was afraid talking to her would only confirm my suspicions about her and Scorpius' relationship, you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "I know, Rose, but the bloke is crazy about you. I barely know him and figured that. At_ Hogwarts_."

She shrugged and put her hands underneath her head. "Emily is a really understanding person. You should feel lucky, marrying her."

It was my turn to be shocked. "Wait – you _told _her?"

"I did," Rose answered proudly, a smile appearing suddenly.

"You_ talked _to her?"

"Yep."

"Just to make sure she and Scorpius aren't having an affair?"

"No, of course not."

"Then _why_?"

"I was getting to that." She turned her head to look at me. "Al, I don't think I'm ready to get married." I stared silently at her, wondering what she was getting at.

"I shouldn't have accepted," she continued, more to herself than me. "It was stupid. I _suspected _he had feelings for Emily, but I accepted anyway."

"Why?"

"Because… I don't know!" she burst, her voice slightly louder than a whisper. She sat up, looking frantic and confused. "I love him, Al. He was _proposing _to me. I forgot Emily even existed."

I sat up as well, my head feeling heavy. "But I take it it's alright? Emily convinced you that she and Scorpius are just friends, right?"

Rose nodded, her hair glinting in the light from the windows. I ran a hand through my own hair, feeling drained. "Then what's the problem?"

"I bought a house."

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't _that_.

"You bought… a house," I repeated, feeling stunned. "Do Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron know? What money did you use?"

"Yes, they know – I told them we didn't want to use their money. Scorpius and I saved up quite a bit, plus a few loans from Gringotts bought us the house and a bit of furniture." I nodded in understanding.

Then snapped.

"_You bought a house_?" I whispered fiercely, making her flinch. "A _house_?"

Usually I'm calm in these situations… but this was big. This was _irreversible_.

"I know, it was really stupid," she said quickly, her eyes welling up with tears.

"_I'll _say!"

"I was just so caught up in it all!" she cried, throwing her hands up in resignation. "And there's more."

"There's _more_?"

"I just realized we can't pay back the loans," she said very quickly, looking guilty. "I didn't even bother remembering I'm not working until after Healing School. We only have one source of income."

I put my head in my hands. "Rose, what did you _do_?"

"I know," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. "It was stupid."

I reached over to my bedside table and handed her a napkin. "What're you going to do now? Are you going to talk to the bank, or the last owners?"

She blew her nose and crumpled the napkin tightly in her fist, setting her red eyes back on me. "Al, I know this sounds crazy, but I _want _to do this – the wedding, the house, everything. Even if I'm not ready."

I put an arm around her, and she rested a head on my shoulder. "You can't afford it, Rosie. I doubt even a part-time job will be able to pay everything off, and you're not accepting money from your parents, are you?"

She shook her head. "No, they're already paying so much for Healing School. That's why I talked to Emily."

"You asked her for _money_?" I asked incredulously, my eyes widening in surprise. "Rose!"

"No, I didn't!" she exclaimed in hushed tones. "Quiet down, everyone's sleeping."

I ignored her. "Why would talking to Emily help if you didn't ask her for money?"

"Maybe if you _shut up_, I'd be able to tell you," she replied hotly. I crossed my arms and clamped my mouth closed, waiting. She took a deep breath, her blue eyes never leaving mine.

"I asked her to consider living with us after the wedding." I felt my jaw drop.

Well, I'm wide awake now.

"You'd be living with us, too," she rushed on before I could consider interrupting. "I realized a week ago that we wouldn't be able to pay back all the loans with only one salary, and since you're working full-time –"

"I'd be able to help," I finished numbly, pinching the bridge of my nose. "While you and Emily do the Healing thing, because parents are paying for that."

She bent her head in confirmation. "Exactly."

I closed my eyes. "What did Emily say?"

"That she'd talk to you, but I told her that two days ago, and since you'd been avoiding her –"

"She hasn't, yet." My stomach lurched guiltily as I dug my hands into my hair. How much had I missed, exactly, just from avoiding Emily? I didn't want to talk to her. Unfortunately for me, Rose had made it practically inevitable.

It seemed that we would equally own the house – I wouldn't be just renting a room; Malfoy and I would be paying the majority of the loans. I've wanted to move out of my parents' house all year, get a place of my own for a while.

I'd assumed life wouldn't work out in my favour.

This was a_ chance_, really. How bad could it be, living with Rose and Malfoy? I mean, I wouldn't have to spend much time with Emily if we had a house, I could come home late without being_ ambushed _by my mother…

But Rose was right; none of us were ready for marriage or living on our own. This was too fast; we'd only_ just _come of age, and taking these steps was risky. Impulsive.

Almost like marrying someone I barely knew.

However, Rose was in a pickle (pardon the pun). She needed me.

"Does Emily want to move?" I asked weakly, my hands still buried in my hair.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she – AH! I almost forgot!" she exclaimed, slapping a hand to her forehead. "It would be a good chance to hide the pregnancy. You know, until you're ready to announce it."

Oh, bugger.

_Why _did Emily have to tell that lie? It made me look like a royal arse who likes to hit on drunk girls and shag them.

Which I_ don't. _Honestly!

How were we going to convince Rose and Malfoy that Emily was pregnant, while hiding it from our parents? All the while, how would we convince our parents and the Ministry that Emily and I were in love?

Never mind Rose, _we_ were in a pickle! A_ jarful_.

I faltered under Rose's pleading gaze. Oh, no – she was giving me the eyes – why would she do that? She knew that it's an unfair advantage to all male cousins in our family! You should see her around Christmas.

This was what I got for playing the doll card.

"_Fine_," I gave in, rubbing my eyes. "I'll do it. As long as you don't ask me why I'm avoiding Emily, or tell her that I am."

Rose pounced on me, squeezing my neck into oblivion. "Thank you, Al!" she squealed happily. "I promise I'll get a part-time job, and help you and Emily together in the end." I snorted out loud.

Wow, she was quite naïve.

"Great," I replied, shoving her off me and putting my glasses on the table. "Now get out of my room and let me sleep."

"Will do," she replied happily, bouncing off my bed and flouncing from my room. "Night, pickle breath!"

I have to_ live _with her? Even if she was my best friend, she's part of my insane, crazy family. They're who I wanted to get away from in the first place.

I groaned as my head hit the pillows at last. _You've got to be kidding me._

* * *

"Hey, Lils," I greeted, walking into the centre of all things interesting, the kitchen. Her eyes widened and spit the drink she was holding.

All over me.

"LILY!" I made some sort of flapping motion with my arms that made me oddly resemble some sort of large (and of course, attractive) bird trying to shake off the water. "What was_ that _for?"

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, completely ignoring the fact that she had spit water all over me. "You haven't been here for nearly a week and a half!"

"Mum threatened my posters if I didn't show up for dinner tonight."

Lily checked her watch. "It's only three o'clock, Al." I shrugged, grinning and stepping closer to her. She didn't need to know how much I missed lazing around at home, did she?

Then again, knowing Lily, she would probably figure it out eventually.

"Want a hug?" I asked innocently, spreading my soaking arms. She immediately jumped away from me, her eyes sparkling.

"No, I really don't," she replied as I advanced. "Isn't that evil, even for your standards?"

I pretended to think. "Wasn't it you who jumped on top of me while I was on the phone?"

"But you looked so _cute_," she cooed, her evil grin spreading across her face as she backed into the living room. "You looked so happy talking to Emily on the phone. I just had to ruin it."

I pressed my lips together, not quite having mastered the ability to hide my laugh. "You're going to look _so cute _when I hose you, aren't you?"

She flipped her hair, still backing towards the living room. "I'm always cute, Al. It's why I get the best presents at Christmastime." I laughed. I had to agree with that one. _Apparently_, Mum always wanted a girl.

I felt so loved.

"Come on, Lils," I said, pouting dramatically at her, picking up my speed as I advanced. "Just one hug for your big brother." She pulled a face.

"I don't think James would appreciate that," she said seriously, almost tripping on the rug beneath her. "He's usually really sweaty after Quidditch practice; I think he'd rather take a shower."

I smirked as Lily struggled with the side door, trying to unlock it backwards; her hand twisted awkwardly as I went forward, showing little mercy. "James doesn't get spit on by his little sister, now does he?"

"Actually –" she unlocked the door and sprinted onto the grass "– he does!" I felt my jaw drop in indignation as I sprinted after her, bursting through the door and into the wave of heat.

"I'm getting the hose!" I called, running around the outside of house to look for one.

"You already dated one!" she yelled back gleefully, running down the street. I furrowed my eyebrows, not looking where I was going.

"I said_ hose_, not – oof!" I collided with a body for the second time that day, slamming backwards onto the grass. I could feel the water dripping off my arms as I froze, staring at Emily.

She looked different, somehow – had she changed her hair, or something? I couldn't figure it out as she rubbed her head, grumbling unhappily from her fall. I guessed she had been running, because sweat had trickled down her tank top and into…

Bloody _hell_, I was staring at her – down there.

I scrambled to my feet, feeling my face burn with something that had nothing to do with the blazing heat around us. She stayed on the ground, annoyed expression still tracing her face as she tied a shoelace that had become undone.

_Holy shit, I have a better view from here._

Must. Stop.

Looking!

"Hey," I blurted out, in fear of saying something incredibly stupid, or worse, incoherent. Dear Merlin, what was_ wrong _with me?

"Hey, yourself," she grumbled, standing up and wiping sweat off her brow. "I heard we're moving tomorrow." I averted my eyes from her chest and met her tired gaze.

"Err, yeah," I said, shaking my head to come back to my senses. "I guess we are."

"So have you stopped avoiding me, or was running into me a mistake?"

"A mis – I mean, I guess I've stopped," I said, running a hand through my hair. She tried not to laugh.

"So you _were _avoiding me, then? It didn't occur to you that we might need to prepare what to say to the Ministry?"

"It might've," I replied uncomfortably, trying very hard not to let my eyes wander.

"Are you_ trying _to be awkward, or is the heat affecting your brain?" she demanded, hands on her hips and looking thoroughly amused. I cleared my throat, smiling weakly.

"Just really tired," I half-lied, trying to calm myself. I had seen girls before. I had seen chests before. MUST STOP BEING AWKWARD.

"_Albus Severus_!"

Oh no.

There's only one person who calls me by full name (other than my mother when she's really,_ really _furious – like steam-blowing-out-of-her-ears furious).

"Grandma!" I faked a wide smile as she stepped out of the house and strode over to pinch my cheeks. "What –" _pinch_ "– brings –" _pinch_ "– you –" _pinch_"– here?"

"Only your beautiful fiancée!" she cried happily, going over to Emily and pulling her into a sweaty hug. "I've been here all day." She suddenly whipped around, a stern look on her face. "Where have _you _been, young man?" she demanded, poking me in the chest.

I think Grandma was a little abusive.

No, not really.

"I've been at work," I replied, massaging my chest as Emily snickered. Grandma raised an eyebrow and immediately put a hand in my hair, trying to flatten it.

"You are just like your father," she grumbled, magicking a comb out of thin air and attacking my head. "Don't you_ ever _use a comb?"

"I – _ow_– sorta," I ended weakly, screwing my eyes tightly. "So I'm guessing you're helping out with the wedding?"

With that, she stepped back, looking greatly offended. "Certainly not!" she scoffed, putting a hand to her chest. "I'm re-doing the entire thing!" My jaw dropped open for the umpteenth time that day. She's fixing everything three days before the wedding – she must be insane!

Then again, she married a man who collects _batteries._

I sighed as she strode back into the house, dragging me and Emily in with her. I guess it couldn't get any worse, could it? Maybe the wedding would actually be _pleasant _now.

I guess it's Grandma to the rescue. Anyone have a cape?


	7. Emily: The Service

**Chapter Seven: Emily: The Service**

Only a couple of weeks ago, I was graduating from Hogwarts. I had my NEWTS, I was going to Healing School this September and I was to help my dad at St. Mungo's all summer to help pay for school.

Then, my future has something to do with a stupid Potter, this stupid church I was standing in and stupid, _stupid_, STUPID frilly dress.

A _very _frilly dress.

"I can't believe I'm wearing this," I moaned to Albus, who was clearly trying hard to fight off his laughter.

He should've tried harder.

"Emily, this is probably all you'll get with a three-day warning," he said calmly, still trying to keep in the laughter. I turned sideways in front of the mirror, not bothering to look at him.

"You get to wear a tux, you lucky little bast –"

"Hey, this is actually really sweaty!" he protested, tugging on the ends of his shirt, seemingly resisting the urge to pull his sleeves up. "I wish we didn't have to get married in a church without that muggle cooling system."

I rolled my eyes. "You mean air conditioning?"

He waved a hand. "Whatever you want to call it."

I smoothed out the frilly pieces of the dress, wishing it looked a little more flattering than it did. "I don't think Rose and Scorpius set one up in the house yet. We probably can't afford it."

Al let a long groan, face falling considerably. "We're in the middle of a drought. I'm really re-thinking this whole idea, Emily."

"You've re-thought this whole idea about a hundred times in the past few days," I commented, a smile tugging on my lips. "After telling your parents, there really was no going back, Al."

He shrugged, leaning against the wall tiredly. Al had finally stopped avoiding me a few days ago, when he ran into me. Literally.

Since then, we'd moved all of our possessions in our new home; unfortunately, we hadn't really… _seen _the place. Rose (and Scorpius, though he was still being a grouch) wanted it to be a surprise.

Much like this dress.

"Can't wait until all this is over," I muttered, smoothing my hair back and wiping sweat off my neck. Al gave a grunt of approval. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I was bored," he said nonchalantly, smiling a little. "Why not come here?"

"You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding," I informed him, turning around slowly to look at him. Unfortunately, the trail of the dress was so heavy, I ended up falling over instead – arms flailing, voice squeaking.

Al burst into laughter, and instead of helping me up, he sat down beside me, looking content. "You're really worried about bad luck at this point?" he joked as I sat up.

"They called me back to the Ministry to bring _you_," I answered, smoothing the dress out on my lap. "Don't you ever worry about anything?"

"Nah." He looked around, leaning back on his hands and breathing out slowly. "I've had two weeks to prepare for this. We still have a couple of days until the meeting on Wednesday."

I looked him straight in the eye. "You're lying."

"About what?"

"You were avoiding me until a few days ago. You're lying."

"Hey," he protested, "I already apologized for that!"

"I'm aware."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to be optimistic. You should try it sometime."

As we fell silent, I fidgeted with my white dress a little more. "I'm not ready for this."

Wow, way to be blunt.

"That's alright," he replied, his mind clearly not in the conversation. He seemed to be thinking of something else as he spoke. "I am."

"How do you know your blind optimism is enough?" I asked, turning and looking at him again. "We don't even know if this if going to work in the first place."

"Isn't it always worth a try, though?" he asked gently, leaning forward and staring right back at me. "Trying usually tells you if something is worth it." I could only open and close my mouth like some deranged goldfish as he leant back on his hands again, his smile never leaving his face.

I hated moments like these – they confused me to no end. Al Potter was some sort of mystery I didn't want to research, but I couldn't help it; it bugged me how he could make me feel uncomfortable.

He only just stopped avoiding me a few days, but he was still at work most of the day. It wasn't a far stretch if I said that we hadn't talked for two weeks. There, in front of the stupid mirror an hour before the service, was probably the most we'd talked in a long time.

I kind of missed it. I noticed that he was a funny guy, the few times I _did _talk to him.

Then again, this is Albus Potter we're talking about.

"I guess it's worth a try," I pondered doubtfully, going back to fidget with my dress that was wound tightly around my legs. "I can't believe our parents agreed to this whole thing."

"It's hilarious!" he stated, bursting into laughter again. "They're running around like loons for this stupid thing, they didn't even _notice _I'd gone missing –"

"They will soon," I pointed out, breaking into a reluctant smile.

"Nah," he repeated, his eyes twinkling with mischief. I broke from his gaze, letting out a long tired breath as I unsuccessfully attempted to untangle the white cloth.

"I hate weddings," I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear me. He nodded in agreement, eyes sweeping over the hideous, over-puffed up dress. I was suddenly struck with self-consciousness, and focused on my hands lost in the frilly layers.

Why didn't Al have to wear anything frilly? He actually looked good in his tux.

… we're going to pretend I didn't think that.

"You know, this is the last chance for us to practice," he contemplated out loud. I could practically _feel _the laughter in his voice as he went on, turning to peer at my burning face. "We're going have to snog out there in front of our parents, who I _swear_has some sort of radar for this." I inched further away.

I _hate _when he said things like that; it's like he was blackmailing me into snogging him. Frankly, I wasn't buying his 'it has to be convincing' excuse.

Okay, so maybe he had a point.

Shut up.

I'll admit it was sort of awkward when our parents kept expecting us to kiss goodnight and we never did. We hugged a couple of times, but mainly, we avoided all physical contact in different ways.

We faked _everything_.

In my defence, it was a lot less awkward just leaving from his room, pretending we'd done something instead of hugging in front of our parents again. And of course, I hadn't seen him the week before.

"I'm _not _practise snogging you," I repeated, "so will you give it up?" I asked, looking sideways at him. For the first time, he seemed to think over the possibility.

"We need to do something that would help," he mumbled to himself, searching my eyes as though the held some sort of answer. "It just has to be natural…"

"That's the thing, Al," I said lightly, smiling a little. "Nothing's really perfect in relationships – everything's awkward at first, remember?"

"We're not supposed to be awkward after a year," he pointed out.

I bit my lip, thinking of my excuse. "I told my parents we weren't used to public displays of affection. It sort of worked for them."

He nodded; his was gaze too blunt, too _intense. _I closed my eyes and face the ceiling, trying to take calming breaths into the silent room.

"Is that why you came here?"

I saw him shake his head from the corner of my eye. "No; I really was bored."

I nodded. "Right."

It would've been a great time to leave, too.

"I have an idea," he said quietly, his voice barely reaching my ears. "Keep your eyes closed."

I didn't want to trust him, but I nodded all the same.

I heard him move closer to me. Slowly and hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed my back against his chest. My eyes flew open.

_Oh Merlin, what was he _doing?

"Al?" I squeaked, my body tense and unwilling. "Could you –"

"Just relax, okay?" he interrupted, squeezing my arms a little. I took a breath to slow my heart and closed my eyes again, leaning into him. I noticed he was as tense as I was.

"As long as you relax as well," I muttered, shifting uncomfortably around his arms. He let out a soft laugh and his shoulders lowered. I could feel his slow, warm breath on the back of my neck.

It was awkward. Sitting there without speaking, I could hear the murmur of crowds in the depths of the church. I imagined the frantic bustling and last-minute preparations for this day, because holy _Merlin_ – I was getting _married_.

My shiver didn't go unnoticed by Al, and subconsciously, he brought me closer into his chest. I exhaled a long breath I didn't know I was holding as his warmth overtook my senses and closed my eyes.

Thoughts collided in my brain – the 'what ifs', the 'what will happens', bursting to be let free.

What if the law hadn't been passed at graduation? What if I hadn't taken refuge in the Room of Requirement, or Al hadn't been there? The first questioning at the Ministry was bad enough, and as much as I hated to admit it, if Al hadn't given me such a nice ring, they wouldn't have believed it.

What if none of that ever happened? Where would I be?

They called me back. I couldn't help but feel _hope _through a pushing sense of impending doom. What if the plan worked? We were married until the Ministry came to their senses, which could take ages.

My family would go on and keep living their normal lives. Was that worth all this?

Of course it was.

But what if it _didn't _work? Though Al and I were amazing liars, they could see through our lies. I could see them forcing Veritaserum down our throats. Albus' father passed a law a while back to prevent that sort of situation, but… one drop and our entire plan would be ruined.

_Merlin_, I really didn't want to do this.

I opened my eyes and wandered out of my trance. My mind felt heavy, yet my eyes felt oddly alert; I seemed to be fighting with myself.

I don't know where that boy got his ideas, but he was right; the awkwardness was slipping away with every second we sat there. I breathed deeply; he stroked my hair absent-mindedly.

I felt safer, a little stronger, sitting there. It was similar to a reality check, and I knew he would be there. I didn't want to trust him. I knew he trusted me.

_I wish I knew what he was thinking._

"Al?" I felt odd, talking to someone who was behind me.

"Yeah?" he asked groggily, lost in his own thoughts.

I kept my eyes closed. "What if this doesn't work?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if the Ministry finds out that this marriage is fake?"

"They won't," he answered confidently.

"But what if they do?"

"They won't –"

"But they _can_." He was silent for a moment.

"I won't let your family go to Azkaban. I'll make sure."

I played with the ruffles of my skirt. "Or die."

He didn't reply. The silence rang around us.

"Al?" I asked again.

"Yeah?"

"This is working, you know that?"

He rested his chin on my head and smiled into my hair. "I know."

"We don't have to snog at all. We can just sit like this in front of our family, whenever we're with them."

Not his, not mine. Our family.

I felt him nod. I pressed my lips together.

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you have married me if I really was pregnant, if I hadn't lied to Scorpius?"

His didn't hesitate. "Of course."

I nodded, settling further back into his chest. It occurred to me that this was the only conversation we'd had that he took the situation seriously. Maybe, finally, he was coming to terms with what was happening – even if it barely applied to him.

Yet.

It also occurred to me that he wasn't as selfish as he thought he was.

I stared at our reflection in the mirror, feeling a shiver pass through me despite the suffocating heat around us, not to mention our combined body heat. Al couldn't hide it, though he was desperately trying to.

Two teenagers, getting married – and absolutely terrified.

* * *

"We are gathered here today…"

Two seconds into the ceremony, and I was already bored.

I looked around, my hands slightly squirming in his. The church was decorated in so much white and_ pink_, it was blinding. I suppose, if it was my real wedding, two weeks of hard work had paid off. I had met Mrs. Weasley, Al's grandmother, who designed (she nixed The Mums' ideas) and decorated (we all helped… sort of) the entire church. She had done an amazing job, despite her constant yelling.

Then again, she picked out this dress. I tripped over it when I walked down the aisle, desperately clinging onto my father's arm to keep me up. Everyone laughed.

I wasn't too sympathetic at that moment.

But Mrs. Weasley really_ was _amazing. She literally cooked _all _the food for the party after this service. All the plans The Mums' and I had made were torn to shreds, much to Al's amusement.

I didn't care. I was _never _looking at another magazine.

I smiled, thinking of the disastrous attempts at decorating the church. Al's little sister, Lily, wasn't of age and had to hang flowers without using magic. She was kicked out after a bouquet fell on Mrs. Weasley's head.

I just wish that Scorpius had forgiven me. After he punched Al, he disapparated back to the Ministry, leaving me there to reassure Albus that I wasn't pregnant and had to leave. Al was surprisingly okay with the whole idea. The only problem was when I'd finally have to admit that I'd been lying, but as Al pointed out, Scorpius would see reason later.

Hopefully.

He came, so he must've been one step closer to forgiving me.

It's funny how things work out. Scorpius and I were going to be family after he and Rose married in a few weeks. Mrs. Weasley almost fainted from the thought of two weddings in three weeks.

Al squeezed my hand a little, and I jumped in surprise. His eyes bore into mine, and it occurred to me that I should be smiling and staring into his eyes, or having some private conversation as the preacher went on and on and on…

I raised an eyebrow at him. He smirked.

What was _that _supposed to mean?

_Screw this, I'm looking around again._We did a good job, decorating, and looking into his eyes was just too awkward.

Except we weren't supposed to be awkward anymore.

_Wait_, I thought frantically, _I have to snog him whenever this is over! I can't even get out of it!_

Why would anyone volunteer to snog in front of their parents? Whoever made up this concept of "You may now kiss the bride" and this whole ceremony is an idiot.

You know, for me. It's kind of sweet for everyone else.

_Oh, _bollocks_. I'm getting _married_. I'm freaking _seventeen years old.

Okay, I turned eighteen at the end of that month.

But still – this wasn't supposed to happen.

The Ministry wasn't supposed to happen. What was going through their minds when they passed that law? The possibility of a secret army of Death Eaters is next to nil.

And how could anyone else become a Death Eater now? They are defined by a tattoo imprinted on their left arms. Last time I checked, Voldemort wasn't walking around and marking more people. He's _dead_.

Along with the idea of a Death Eater.

The Minister of Magic was frightening. I don't think I've ever honestly been so scared of someone before. When it was my family's turn, he looked at my father's arm and gazed at _me _with so much hatred.

Cold, hollow eyes. That's what I saw.

He asked of my father's life after the death of Voldemort. Dad told him how he met my mother and immediately fell in love with her. He worked so hard to become someone, and it was all for my mother. The only thing he wrote down was that I was engaged to Albus Potter.

The story was similar for Scorpius' family. The Minister demanded we both come back with our fiancées. I had a slightly better chance, because I would be married by the time I had to go back to the Ministry. I only hoped Scorpius would have the same chances when Rose came to the Ministry with him.

I found myself staring at Albus. How could he be so prepared, so confident? When I told him, he avoided me. And then, at the service, inexplicably, he was ready. Was he really?

I wasn't. Because holy freaking _Merlin_, I was getting married.

"I do." Everyone looked at me expectantly as the preacher stopped speaking again.

RIGHT. Oops.

"I do."

I jumped a little when Al slipped a wedding band onto my finger. I did the same, straightening up afterwards and looking into his eyes.

"… you may now kiss the bride."

He took my hands and pulled me forward. Closer.

And closer.

_Is it really too late to take back that 'I do'?_

Shit, it probably is.

And look at that, we were even closer.

I trembled underneath his gaze as time seemed to stop; I could sense every nerve-wracking thought in his mind from the proximity between our faces. His hot breath hit my lips, and I squirmed.

This really was just too close for comfort.

_Okay, who just squealed?_

Our lips were only millimeters apart when a screech erupted in the room, the voice bouncing off the walls in an echo.

We broke apart quickly, countless heads swiveling around to a girl standing in the doorway of the church. An angry redhead, sweat shining on her brow and dripping down to her very short dress. She looked ready to kill.

No, let's clarify; she looked ready to kill _me_.

She looked so familiar.

Al's grip tightened around one of my hands as the girl burst into angry tears. She marched forward down the aisle, pointing to Al and shouting, "I'm too late to save you, Al! I'm so sorry you had to marry this whore!"

My eye widened. This girl was _delusional_.

I mean, look at what she's wearing.

"Al, stop squeezing my hand off!" I hissed to him. Instead of letting go, he clutched tighter, swallowing as he surveyed the girl. She kept ranting hysterically, running her hands through her overly made up hair and not bothering mascara dripping down her face.

She looked like a right mess.

_Who _is_ this girl?_

It seemed like forever before an old lady (and I mean _really _old) stood up slowly and pointed her walking stick to the girl. She looked wobbly and weak, but her voice…

Well, it's something.

It _boomed._ Her speech didn't just burst out of her, it _boomed_, it _exploded_. The acoustics of the church were encouraging enough; it amplified her sound – so much, in fact, the girl had stopped screaming at me and turned her attention to the little old lady.

Who was over a hundred and thirty-five, according to Al.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, YOUNG LADY!" She made her way through the crowds of relatives to approach the distressed 'young lady'.

"No," Al groaned from beside me, his hands becoming sweaty. "That's my great Aunt Muriel."

"What's she doing?" I whispered back. He shrugged, slightly jumpy.

When Muriel _finally _reached the aisle, she poked the girl's shoulder with the long, wooden cane. The redhead staggered back, a scowl appearing along her distressed face.

_Where have I seen her before?_

"What's your _problem_, old lady?" she yelled, rubbing her skinny shoulder. I noticed Al's lips twitching into a smile as he watched Muriel repeatedly poke the redhead in the shoulder.

"Listen here, missy," Muriel huffed. _Poke._ "My grandchild is getting married today, and you –" _poke_ "– have lost your chance with him!" _Poke_.

I tiled my head in confusion, a smile coming to my own face. Maybe this woman is delusional as well. Albus is most definitely_ not _her grandchild.

Wait a minute – '_lost your chance_'?

My mouth dropped open. This was Al's ex-girlfriend?

Ha! I knew he dated slags!

"I know!" she wailed, stomping her foot in frustration and rubbing her shoulder. "But I deserve another chance, I know I do! I'm in love with him!"

Al snorted from beside me.

She turned to him with wide, shining eyes. "I won't give up on you, Al!" Muriel poked her in the back.

"_Great_," he muttered, his shoulders slumping. I fought a smile as the girl turned to me, shooting me the most menacing glare she could give me.

Honestly, her attempt was quite pathetic. I'm a _Slytherin_, for goodness sakes; it was going to take more than that to scare me. Especially when she was being poked in the back every two seconds.

Oooh, so intimidating.

It was her eyes, however, that stopped me from laughing in her face. They were full of hatred, sure – but it was familiar hatred. Her brown eyes were hollow. Cold.

And it hit me. I knew _exactly _who she was.

As the girl was dragged from the church by a couple of Al's cousins, I turned to him. He was laughing so hard, he was gripping my hand (he still hadn't let go of me) to keep himself from falling over. I pulled on him a little, and he glanced up.

"Can you believe this?" he gasped out, eyes watering with tears of laughter. "This is brilliant!"

"You know what I can't believe?" I shot, clenching his hand so tightly, I felt as though it would fall off. "I can't believe you dated Holly Birch!"

He straightened up and pulled his sweaty hand out of my grasp, wiping his eyes and grinning. "Well, she was hot, and I didn't expect that she would stalk me for so long –"

"You dated the daughter of the Minister of Magic!"

Al's grin slipped off his face.

"And now," I continued, looking hopelessly up at the ceiling, "she hates me."


	8. Albus: The Party

**Chapter Eight: Albus: The Party**

I wanted chocolate cake.

I mean, that's pretty much all I asked for in this wedding. I didn't complain about the venue, the girly decorations, the sweaty tux or even my bride.

That's weird to think about. _I have a _bride_. An honest-to-Merlin, breathing, real, _living_ – for now, at least, and hopefully later – bride._

Anyway.

They nixed the chocolate cake for_ vanilla_. That's a conspiracy against mankind, and would you like to know why? It's because _vanilla _matched the decorations.

Seriously, who cared?

Apparently my grandmother does. I've learned to never get her angry.

But I _needed _my chocolate! Does nobody understand my situation?

"It's not that bad," Emily tried to reason, while barely touching her own cake. I turned my head to see her stabbing the table with her fork, not bothering to make small talk with anyone else at the table.

I turned back to the white mass in front of me, becoming sick at the thought of eating another bite.

Yes, I had only eaten one bite.

"It's _vanilla_, Emily," I told her, not taking my eyes off the layers of frosting.

"So?"

"So, this is a disgrace to humanity!" I cried dramatically, stabbing my cake violently with a fork. "How could anyone like vanilla over chocolate?"

She rolled her eyes, still tapping the table. "It's not that bad."

"How would you know?" I demanded, eyeing her own disgusting pile of vanilla cake. "You've barely eaten any."

"I know what vanilla tastes like, Al," she said exasperatedly, tapping her fork louder and more impatiently.

"And?"

"It's not that bad!" I stared at her in horror as her eyes got that faraway look.

Merlin, she was_ ignoring _me in a crisis! I could've been dying!

"Vanilla isn't that bad?" I asked, my voice faltering a little. "You think vanilla –"

She cut me off with an impatient sigh, still tapping her fork absent-mindedly. "This may come as a shock to you, but I really don't mind vanilla as much as you do."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're a _vanilla lover_, aren't you?" I claimed, pointing my fork in her direction. She snorted.

"_Vanilla lover_?" she asked sceptically, turning to face me for the first time. "This is not important, Al!" My mouth fell open in disbelief.

_Merlin, will she stop tapping her fork?_

"How could this not be important?" I shot back, feeling more and more irritated by the minute. "I married a vanilla lover, and you don't think it requires any attention?"

"I'm _sorry_," she snapped angrily, "but I was a bit distracted by the fact that we have a major flaw in our plan!"

I put a hand over hers to stop the incessant tapping noise and looked into her brown eyes, burning in frustration and anger. She stared right back.

"This is going to work," I insisted stubbornly, pronouncing the words slowly and clearly.

Emily's eyes flashed. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is –"

"Merlin Al, you have at least forty years until you have to act like an old married couple." Fred approached us, looking at our hands and smirking. "Wait until your honeymoon for this, kids."

I jerked my hand off of hers and flicked some cake at my older cousin. It smudged onto his suit, but he didn't seem to care; he only laughed at our burning faces.

What was _wrong _with me? I was never this dramatic before!

I must've been going mental.

It was probably the cake.

"Aren't you going introduce us?" he added, flicking some red hair out of his face and winking at Emily.

"Right," I said distractedly, still glowering at him. "Emily, meet Fred Weasley, another insignificant branch of my family tree."

"Absolutely _spiffing _to meet you!" he burst, grabbing her hands and bringing it up to his lips joyfully. I felt a twinge of annoyance at her blush.

"Leave her alone, Fred."

"So where's the honeymoon?" he asked, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows after he let go of her hand.

"We're not having one yet," I told him, trying not to glare at him. "We have a meeting at the ministry soon."

"Ah, I see. I wouldn't want anyone to interrupt the middle of my honeymoon, either," he commented, stroking his chin and not bothering to hide his grin. I attempted to keep my face still, knowing Emily was thinking the same thing.

Bugger. What were we going to do when we _actually _had to go on a honeymoon?

"Wait a minute." His eyes went back and forth between us, looking extremely anxious. "Did you guys kiss at all?" I choked on my own spit, but Emily kept her cool.

"Of course we did," she answered sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. He gulped, and I didn't blame him. Emily was taking her good looks to her advantage.

And she knew it.

"Didn't you see it?" she continued earnestly.

"Right." Fred agreed instantly, having completely fallen in her trap. "Practically shagged up there." My jaw dropped in indignation, but before I could protest, Fred has excused himself and wandered into the crowd.

Upon his departure, I turned back to Emily, quirking an eyebrow at her. She raised one back.

"What?"

I cleared my throat loudly, pushing the plate away and slipping off my chair. "Come on, I want you to meet the rest of my relatives."

"The rest of… _what_?" she choked out, looking horrified. I grinned.

"There are quite a few," I said, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the nearest table. "Ready?"

"Not really, no –"

"Great!" I encouraged, dragging her up to the white-and-pink tablecloth. Sitting there was Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron, Rose, Hugo and Scorpius. Emily's face fell considerably as Scorpius ran for the buffet table upon our arrival.

Ouch.

Some best friend.

I slid a hand around her waist, saying, "I'd like you to introduce you to Uncle Ron and Hugo. You already know Aunt Hermione and Rose, right?" She nodded at them.

"Hello," Emily greeted, taking Uncle Ron's outstretched hand and shaking it.

"Nice to meet you," he told her, a grin flitting across his face. "Does your father still eat like a starving man?" I turned to her quickly, expecting Emily to be offended, but she wasn't. She laughed.

_Just when you think you know a person…_

"Yeah," she answered, eyes sparkling. "Mum and I tried to put him on a diet, once –"

With that, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione burst into laughter. Uncle Ron stood up, calling, "Harry, will you get a load of this?" before making his way up to the table across the room. Emily laughed quietly.

"You're… close to your dad," I observed, "and you're not shy at all. I thought you were." Emily raised her eyebrow again, looking thoroughly amused.

"Are you trying to figure me out?"

"Yep," I admitted easily, stroking my chin to add to the effect. She giggled; she seemed to be relaxing and enjoying the party.

_Finally._

"Let's go meet another family?" I suggested, trying to ignore the unfamiliar clenching in my stomach. She nodded eagerly and grabbed my arm, steering me towards the Malfoy's.

_Well, this wasn't _exactly _what I had in mind._

Scorpius took refuge to Rose's table again, scurrying off from Emily's sight. She narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue at him, and I swore I caught a smile from Scorpius before his back was turned.

"Did you just –"

"Inside joke," Emily cut in, her grin threatening to fall. "He'll give in eventually. This," she gestured to a blond man with sleeked back hair and a pointed face, "is Mr. Malfoy and," she pointed to a slim, brown-haired lady beside him, "his wife." I plastered an award winning smile and shook their hands firmly.

"They're like my second family," she told me, and I felt the clenching in my stomach squeeze painfully. I managed to keep a smile as Mr. Malfoy exchanged glances with me, nod and went back to speaking to Emily.

Well, that was sort of rude.

I tuned out, not minding so much they weren't about to speak to me. I wondered briefly if it were the same with Rose; did they ignore her? What would it have been like at their home, if she went to live with him?

Oh, and we were going to see our new home right after this party is over.

I was skipping for joy, couldn't you see it?

I tapped my foot impatiently as Mr. Malfoy spoke about the rates for living in a muggle home, and how they had gone up tremendously. He was just mentioning how we shouldn't move in with them when I suddenly perked up.

"What do you mean?" I cut in quickly before Emily could speak. Mr. Malfoy looked taken aback.

"Well, they're about to be married, much like yourselves," he explained politely, raising his eyebrows at me. "I expect they'll be having kids soon."

… _bollocks._

Emily paled considerably. "I'm pretty sure Rose doesn't want kids yet," I said quickly, trying not to splutter. "I mean, she's going to Healing School. They can't take care of children yet."

Therefore, we were _not _going to walk in on them having sex.

That image wasn't even a slight possibility in my mind.

"In either case, I wish you luck trying to pay back those loans," Mrs. Malfoy spoke up, looking pleased at our discomfort. "Congratulations." I turned my back before letting my expression of horror overtake my face.

He did that on purpose. I _swear _did that on purpose…

I grabbed Emily's hand and pulled her to the nearest table, determined to get away from the awkward atmosphere as quickly as I could.

And it was _just my luck _that I brought her towards the Scamander family.

"Oh no," I muttered, my eyes widening as I tried to steer Emily away. "Not there, not there –"

"Albus!"

Bollocks.

"Aunt Luna," I cried weakly, turning back to their table with an expression that probably looked more like a grimace. "How's the Nargle hunting going?"

Aunt Luna smiled dreamily. "Al, you can only go Nargle hunting at Christmastime. Didn't you promise you'd come with me?"

I scratched the back of my neck guiltily. "Right. Emily, this is –"

"I'm Lorcan," one son interrupted, looking gleeful as he stood up to shake her hand. "And this is my twin, Ly –"

"I can introduce myself, thanks!" the other said indignantly, thrusting a hand forward and pushing Lorcan out of the way. "I'm Lysander, the better-looking twin." I fought the urge to laugh at Emily's strained face, clearly looking uncomfortable and overwhelmed. I bet she was already thinking up schemes to blow them up in that Slytherin mind of hers.

Wait, that was amusement. She was trying not to laugh.

False alarm, never mind.

I felt tugging at my sleeve. I turned to see Aunt Luna staring at me, smiling a huge smile that made me slightly nervous.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"You have a beautiful bride," she told me with shining eyes. I felt myself sag in relief.

_Merlin, I'm glad I wasn't the only one thinking that!_

… did I just…

… nope. I didn't think

anything.

"Thanks," I said, sounding more grateful than I'd intended. I watched Emily, who was wincing at Lorcan and Lysander's conversation about… something. You never really know with them. I_ think _we once had a rather odd conversation about the magical uses of cucumbers.

At least, I sure_ hope _it was cucumbers.

"I can tell you don't love her." My head snapped immediately to Aunt Luna's serious, yet calm expression.

"Excuse me?" I asked, trying (and failing) to act extremely offended. I think I just ended up looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Attractive, I know.

"It's alright," she replied, not bothering to whisper. "No one's listening; you can be honest with me." I shook my head, instantly, stammering away.

"Aunt Luna, I wouldn't be marrying Emily if I didn't love her –"

"Of course you would," she countered, watching her sons bombard Emily with questions about the Slytherin house. "You're just like your father; you'd do anything to help someone."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted stubbornly, crossing my arms.

"I think you do," she said happily, staring up at me with wide eyes. "But you can fall in love with her, and that's the important part." She got up and skipped merrily to the buffet table, leaving me extremely ticked off.

Because honestly, I had forgotten the real reason I married Emily until that moment.

* * *

"I am _not_ dancing," Emily said stubbornly to my grandmother. I hope she realizes what she's doing – _no one _says 'no' to my grandma. It's just not done.

It might be the reason she was looking highly offended right then.

_Crap, I gotta go hide._

"It's tradition, dear," she said firmly, looking curiously at Emily's distressed expression. She didn't even give her a chance to speak before turning on her feel and hurrying away, obviously quite pissed off at the complication.

Eh, she's old. She'd get over it.

"Al?" I looked over at Emily, who was staring determinedly at my eyebrows, eyes betraying her nerves. "I can't dance."

I laughed. "What makes you think _I _can?"

"You've been to these kind of things, right?"

"Haven't you?"

"I suppose," she answered, a smile creeping in her features. "When I was younger. I'd always throw a fit to have to wear a dress, then ditch with Scorpius." I chucked; I could see that. She threw a fit to wear her wedding dress.

Then again, she couldn't walk in it.

"Well, I stopped going to these things well before I had to learn how to dance," I said. Desperation was becoming more and more clear in her eyes as she stepped closer, touching my arm lightly. I narrowed my eyes.

Bugger. I knew _exactly _what she was doing.

"Come on, Al," she urged, leaning closer and closer. "You're her favourite. You can convince her, right?" I knew she was lying. She was desperate not to make a fool out of herself.

That conniving little Slytherin.

"This isn't going to work," I told her, watching her eyes widen as much as possible. I willed myself not to stare into their depths; I pushed at her shoulders firmly. "I'm not Fred."

"What's not going to work?" she asked innocently. "Al, I really can't go out there." Grandma had begun introducing us. Emily bit her lip.

I swallowed and closed my eyes. "Emily, stop."

"Stop what?"

"You're –"

"… newly wed, Albus and Emily Potter!" I opened my eyes in relief and took her hand. She clutched it in defeat, and I felt the clamminess as we stepped onto the empty dance floor. She looked genuinely afraid this time.

"It won't be so bad," I murmured from the side of my mouth, pulling my hands from hers and setting them at her waist. Hers crawled up my neck as the music started. I felt eyes burning into my back, the cat-calls echoing in my ears.

But oddly enough, I didn't really care.

"Come closer," I whispered, rolling my eyes. "I don't have a disease. This looks weird." Reluctantly, she moved closer, hands shaking. "Don't stand still. Just sway back and forth."

"I_ am _swaying back and forth."

"You actually have to move your feet for this," I said, amused. She bit her lip again and tried to follow my instructions. Her face filled with relief as my parents joined the floor, doing some sort of strange dance of their own. I laughed.

"Don't laugh at me! I'm trying my best!" she defended, looking distraught. I gestured towards my parents and other couples, still grinning.

"You're doing fine, see? No one really knows how to dance anymore." A small smile cracked through her mask, and I had a strong urge to do it again.

"Can I cut in?"

I stepped aside, feeling slightly shunned as Scorpius approached us, the first song having ended. Something like anxiousness crossed her face as they began to dance, clearly taking the opportunity talking for the first time in weeks.

Curiosity burned in me, but I willed myself to sit down at my family's table. It was mainly empty, except for James; funny, I thought he'd take the opportunity to dance with Emily's cousins.

"Hey," I greeted, sitting down and poking my cake again. He raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for this night to be over," I replied honestly. I don't think I can take any more of this mushy, wedding stuff. Whose idea was this, again?

Oh, right. Mine.

"Where's Emily?" I didn't answer, letting his eyes search the place until they settled on Emily and Scorpius, who seemed to be having an argument on the middle of the dance floor. "Ah, I see. Jealous?"

My fork missed the cake, clanging on the plate noisily. "Of course not. Why aren't you out there, James?"

"Oh, believe me," he said, grinning mischievously, "I was going to. I saw you coming, and decided to stay." I rolled my eyes.

"Wanted to bug me?"

"Do I ever!" he said happily, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. "Are you going to shag tonight?" I choked on my own spit again.

_What is with everyone thinking about sex tonight?_

"No!"

"Aw, come on, you can tell me," he encouraged, smirk growing on his face. "I mean, I could tell you've shagged before, with that kiss in the church."

I hate brothers with a burning passion.

"Shut up."

"Yeah," he continued, as if he hadn't heard me, "almost as if it hadn't happened. Heard you got Fred on your side, though."

"James –"

"Don't worry; the whole family will know that it's your first shag by the end of the night –"

"Seriously, James –"

"No need to thank me!" he insisted cheerfully, standing up and patting my back. "Really, Al, it's too much."

"Shut your face, we're not having –"

"Emily!" James leapt at the chance to lead her into a chair, grinning like a mad man. "We were just talking about you."

"James, you bloody _wanker _–"

"Enjoy your night!" he said with a wink, departing from the scene. Emily turned to me in her seat, biting her lip.

"Sorry," I apologized immediately, resisting the urge to go beat James into pulp. "We're trying to find him a leash – bloody hell, are you in a bad mood again?"

I honestly didn't mean to say that out loud, I really didn't!

Emily's face flushed scarlet and her face fell. I immediately felt overwhelmingly guilty, but _honestly _– she was laughing just five minutes ago! How much could happen in _five bloody minutes _that could make her so upset?

… _shit_, she was upset.

"I didn't mean it like that," I said weakly, grabbing her hand. She shook me off and stormed away angrily.

Towards the _bar_.

MAYDAY! MAYDAY! RED ALERT! ABORT MISSION!

(I'm not specifically _on _a mission, but still.)

"What do you think you're doing?" I said loudly, grabbing an arm and twisting her around. "I don't think _drinking _is going to help, Emily!"

"Well, I'm not going to dance again," she insisted, her voice cracking. She loosened out of my grip and placing her hands on her hips. "What else is there to do? I don't want to meet any more of your relatives."

"They're_ your _relatives too, you know," I said, feeling a little stung. She rolled her eyes as her shoulders slumped. "Why are you upset?"

"Oh, _I don't know_!" She threw her hands in the air carelessly, turning around to leave. "You don't even care, so just leave me _alone_, will you?" I noticed she didn't mention her argument with Scorpius, but I let it go.

She'd tell me eventually, right?

I followed her out in the hall. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my bloody _wife_, aren't you?" I pointed out, frustrated she couldn't just tell me what's going on. "Why can't you just be grateful that I'm helping you?"

"Why can't you accept the fact that _you were the one who offered to help me_, so you might want to stop avoiding the situation?"

All the anger poured out of me at those words. I slumped against the wall of the hallway guiltily, looking down at my shoes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to avoid you. I didn't mean to say what I just said, but I…" I swallowed. "I don't think I'm ready for this any more than you are."

She leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed and looking reproachful. "I was never angry at you for avoiding me."

My head snapped up. "You weren't?"

"No," she clarified, shaking her head. "I'm angry because I'm depending so heavily on you, where I'm usually dependent on myself." I nodded in agreement. Maybe we had more in common than we thought.

Who would've thought?

"I don't want all this effort to go to waste because we're not ready," she continued, blinking rapidly. "_No one _is ready for this."

"I don't want the Ministry to kill your family." Her eyes bore fiercely into mine; a shiver ran done my spine as I observed all the bitterness she felt, and all the fear.

She was really, _really _scared.

"Let's just make the best of this, okay?" she said, her expression softening. "Your family worked really hard for this wedding, and we might as well play our part well."

I agreed immediately. "Exactly."

She couldn't keep the grin from stretching across her face. "We didn't have to snog."

I laughed loudly, my voice echoing in the lit hallway. "I know, can you believe it? I didn't think Holly was actually good for something."

Emily chuckled. "When did you date her?"

I looked at the white ceiling, thinking about it. "Fifth year, I think. First and last girl I ever dated." I ran a hand through my hair. "She's a nutter."

"Of all people, Holly _Birch _had to be your ex." She sighed loudly, fingering the ends of her frills. "What if she finds out that we're faking this?"

I shrugged. "I don't see how she _can_. We're pretty good liars."

She bit her lip and twisted the ends of her hair. "Once we get out of here, we have to figure out what we're going to say to the Minister. We can't avoid it anymore."

My stomach squirmed uncomfortably, but I found myself nodding in agreement. "Yeah." I paused, thinking before I spoke. "I really _am _sorry."

She let out a small laugh. "I'm sorry you have no way out of this."

"_I'm _sorry you don't realize when people are eavesdropping on you."

_Merlin, please don't let it be who I think it is._

Holly came out shadows around the other corner, grinning madly. My stomach plummeted further. I was sure it had reached the earth's core by now.

"So you're doing this to save your family, aren't you?" Holly asked, her voice filled with glee.

Emily didn't speak. She was shaking.

Holly flipped her red hair, hope radiating from her eyes as she centred her gaze on me. I shrank childishly into the wall as she pressed her body against mine, her evil mind spinning gears as she traced my arm with a finger.

Is it bad that I was so accustomed to this situation that I didn't even flinch at her proximity?

Yeah, I thought it was.

"Don't worry, Al," she said in a low voice, most likely ignoring my expression. I wrinkled my nose at the strong burst of _whatever _scent she was wearing as it crawled through my nostrils, almost bringing on a sneeze. "I'll save you."

And then she was gone, her unfortunately-and-too-familiar perfume lingering in the air in front of me, obviously and dangerously.

She was trying to be seductive. In front of my wife. At my _wedding_.

Merlin, she needs a hobby.


	9. Emily: The Bed

**Chapter Nine: Emily: The Bed**

"What. The. _Hell._"

"What?" I said quickly, standing on my toes to reach and look over his shoulder. "What's wrong? Is there something in the room?"

"What the _hell,_" he repeated, not moving as I tried to shove him aside. Seriously, what's going on? It's not that hard to answer me.

Unless he was in shock. In that case, I'd better slap him.

_Smack._

"OI!" he spun around, trying to rub his back. "_What_?"

"What's going on?" I demanded, placing my hands back on my hips and glaring at him. "Move, will you? I want to see!"

"It's –" he cut off, looking behind me. "Rose."

"Rose? That's not their room –"

"Rose, I'm going to kill you," he growled, pushing me aside into the wall and lunging at her. Rose, having come out of her room upon hearing Al's dulcet tones, didn't falter in the slightest. She rolled her eyes and ducked effortlessly, obviously having much practice with that.

I might need to go to her for tips. Do you think Al would attack me?

… uh oh.

"Al, I know you're mad, but we really don't have a choice in this matter."

"You _promised _–"

"There isn't enough space for two beds in one room!" Rose said with finality before going back to her room, cursing under her breath. She shut the door with a snap, and Al's face crumpled.

And I burst into laughter.

Hey, I never said I was the most sympathetic of people.

His eyes fled to me in annoyance. "What are you laughing at?"

"What does it _look _like I'm laughing at?" I countered, chuckling and leaning against the wall, crossing my arms in front of me. "You're ridiculous."

A smirk rose on his face. "Are you saying you _want _to share a bed with me?" My eyes turned to slits.

"Piss off," I said coldly, pushing myself off the wall and entering the small room. I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic, and shook my head. _Get a hold of yourself, Emily. It's just a bed._

The bed of _doom…_

No, no. It's just a bed. _It's just a bed._

"Oh, _come on_," Al whined, following me with a look of dismay scrawled across his face. "You wanted to move here!"

"Yeah, so we didn't have to act in _love _any longer!" I spat back, unable to resist the urge to spin around and face him. "Go sleep on the couch."

"No way!" He glanced downstairs. Were my eyes deceiving me, or was he paling slightly? "Have you seen that thing? It's lumpy and _small _– you're short, why don't you take it?"

I scoffed, turning to my trunk to where it was plopped against the wall. "I wouldn't be able to fall asleep on that thing. It's my first day at St. Mungo's tomorrow." I kicked the suitcase, letting it spring open and reveal neatly folded clothes. My eyes sprung with embarrassing tears, and I quickly blinked them out. Now is not the time, especially when Al is right behind me.

Truth is, I already miss my family. I miss the neatness, the quiet house in the mornings and the dinner conversations. It's strange, considering I haven't been homesick at Hogwarts since I was eleven, but… this was different, for some reason.

Makes me stupidly emotional.

We'd just gotten to the new house literally fifteen minutes ago. After Holly left the party (I'm still wondering how she got _in_), we tried _very _hard to stay calm.

Okay, _I _tried very hard to stay calm. Al couldn't get his heart rate up if he was dropped from a cliff without a wand.

We managed all the smiles, the speeches and the goodbyes before Rose and Scorpius brought us here. The house was located in a muggle suburb, and Rose had _insisted _on keeping any changes to the house as muggle as possible, in case any neighbours visited.

Pshhh, as if they'd come to a house owned by four teenagers.

By the time we got to the house, we took a quick glance around the house, determined it was very small and badly in need of decorating and demanded sleep. A person can only survive so long without rest.

And thinking, but I really doubt I could stop worrying this much anytime soon.

"I have work too, you know," Al said, suddenly sounding very tired. "I mean, just because I might not be saving lives_,_ it doesn't mean I don't need sleep – what are you _doing_?"

I quickly shut the lid of the leather trunk, clutching pajamas and a t-shirt in my hand. "Nothing."

"Because it _looked _like," he continued, bending his neck and trying to peer at my face, "you were wiping your eyes on your pajamas." I blushed uncontrollably.

"I wasn't," I mumbled, trying to push past him, but he blocked the door, looking… concerned?

Nah. He probably just wants me to feel uncomfortable again.

He really likes doing that to people. Creep.

"I mean, I might've noticed when it looked like you wet yourself, but –"

"Just a long night," I muttered irritably, not relenting my efforts in getting out of the room. "Will you _move_?"

"Could you just tell me why you're crying?" he asked, not moving an inch. Stupid muscles. I sighed and stepped back, blowing hair out of my face.

"No."

"Why _not_?"

"Because I didn't want you to_ know _that I was crying, nitwit!" I shot back, feeling more and more annoyed. I wish there was more than one exit to this freaking tiny room. "You already think I'm some emotional basket case, what more do you want?"

He ran a hand through his hair, stretching his tux a little. "I don't think that."

"You're lying," I said, knowing it was a hundred percent correct. "You think I'm mental."

I mean, it may be true – but I didn't want him to _believe_ it!

Yep, deceiving people has always been a talent of mine. Sort of.

"Okay, maybe a little." I nearly snorted; he didn't even try to deny it! "But that doesn't mean I don't –"

"Care?" I asked sceptically, looking up at him with a quirk in my eyebrow. "That's not going to work on me. I _know_you don't care."

"Now why would I marry you," he said with a glimmer of humour in his eyes, "if I didn't care?"

"Because you're using me," I replied easily, crossing my arms awkwardly while still clutching my clothes. The grin that had been on the verge of stumbling onto his face faded.

I seem to have a talent for making that smile disappear.

Why doesn't that make me feel any better?

"You're using me, too," he answered, swallowing. "Look, I don't think you're mental –"

"Still lying –"

"Okay, I don't think you're _completely _mental. But it's probably because I don't know you." I frowned.

"I'm not very hard to read," I pointed out, as if the statement was obvious and his miniscule mind couldn't catch on. "I'm Emily. Slytherin. Smart."

He laughed, incredibly. "I think there's more than that. You think too much; you've got to be hiding something."

"But I'm _not_," I whined, practically stomping my foot. "Al, I just want to get out of this dress." He slapped a hand to his forehead, immediately grinning.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he exclaimed, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me towards him. "I could help, you know." My mouth opened indignantly. I shoved him in the chest and he went toppling onto the bed.

He's got _some nerve…_

"I thought we went over this?" I demanded as he propped himself up on his elbows, laughing. "We're not doing anything." He cocked his head, shaking it a little.

"I was _joking. _Why are you so resistant?" he asked, looking very curious now.

"I don't see you in that way."

"But for the wedding," he clarified, sitting up properly. "It was one kiss. It's not a big deal for most people – why does it matter?"

I sighed. "Does it matter? The contract doesn't care if we kissed of not."

"But why does it matter so much to _you_?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Haven't you kissed someone by now?"

"Yeah," I answered, shrugging, "but I don't like the idea of kissing someone I don't know, or like." I avoided his eyes, and knew that was the blunder I made.

Amateur mistake. Always keep eye contact when you're lying.

"Alright, there's something else," he concluded confidently, standing up. "What, are you in love with someone?" I sighed and met his eyes.

"Nope."

"Did someone assault you?"

"Nope."

"Are you a bad kisser?"

"Nope."

"Do you think _I'm _a bad kisser?"

"Bloody hell, you've got a big head," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Do you want to know that badly?"

"_Yes_," he insisted. I sighed again.

"I was cheated on," I said very quickly, not quite hiding the humiliation creeping up on my back. Whatever Al was expecting, it wasn't that.

"_Really_?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Was it a big deal to _you_?" I shrugged, trying to shake off hot tingling feeling that was uncomfortably pushing me to tell the truth. Why would I tell Al, of all people? I mean, it's not as if he's my husband or anything.

Bloody hell, I have a _husband._

Kill me now.

"It must've been a big deal," he pondered out loud. "I mean, why else would you go to such lengths to avoid a stupid kiss?" His eyes burned holes into my face, desperately searching for answers I wasn't willing to give. "Aren't we, as teenagers, supposed to be overly hormonal?"

My lips twitched. "Did you write an article on that?"

"Yep," he said, grinning. "So you're in love with him."

"I was," I admitted.

"Until he cheated on you."

"That, and he was using me." You know, it would be_ very nice _if my mouth didn't spew words around against my own will.

"For what?"

"Snogging, and potentially shagging." WHERE ARE THESE WORDS COMING FROM?

I swear, Al brings out the worst in me.

I mean, telling the truth? _So _overrated.

"But it didn't get that far?" he asked while leaning back, obviously pleased he was finally getting some answers.

"No, I wouldn't have sex until after I was married."

Oh.

Well, this is awkward.

See? This is why I don't speak without thinking.

He popped onto his feet, the mischievous grin returning to his face. Have I mentioned how annoying it is for someone to be this confident all the time? And that _look._Merlin, it's creepy. "Still need help getting out of that dress?" he asked suggestively, hands sliding back to my waist. Before I could shove him off again, he brought his arms from my waist and around me.

"Al?" I questioned, feeling my arms flop rather awkwardly in mid-air. "What are you doing?"

"I knew you weren't used to affection," he said cheerfully, squeezing me and bringing me closer. "I'm sorry he used you. And cheated."

"It's not your fault," I said quietly, wishing he would let me go so I could let my face decrease in temperature.

"Nope," he said, "but everything that happened tonight might've been." I pulled away, trying not to make it seem as if I cared about all that.

Ugh, tears are just so inconveniently uncontrollable.

"So you think a hug is going to make everything better?" I mumbled, blinking rapidly. He shrugged, turning to rummage through his own trunk. I could see the smirk appearing again.

"You should hope so," he replied, pulling out his own clothes and leaving the messy trunk wide open. He stood again, winking at me. "You're in for a rough night."

I childishly stuck my tongue out at him.

Hey, it's the best retaliation I've got.

* * *

"So why do you hate sharing a bed?" His body was tense and stiff as he lay beside me, not bothering to put on the covers in the searing heat.

He's actually worse than _me –_and that's saying something.

"It's a long story," he muttered, his arms crossed very tightly around him. "Lily and James played a stupid prank." I raised an eyebrow, but thought nothing more of it. He obviously didn't want to tell me.

At least _his _mouth didn't spew words of its own accord.

"Are you _sure _you don't want to sleep on the couch?" I asked hopefully. He shook his head, barely moving his neck and scrunching his eyes closed as if he were in pain. I sighed.

I guess it's fair. That couch would give us a lifetime of backache.

"It's really hot." I glanced at him as he spoke and spotted beads of sweat on his forehead. I nodded in agreement, staring back at the ceiling.

"Are you going to try and sleep anytime soon?" I asked.

"No."

"But it's one in the morning."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe you could keep talking and distract me?"

I groaned. "Al, I'm _tired._"

"I'm probably not going to stop talking until I fall asleep." I resisted the urge the strangle him.

Alright, that's it. I'm going to help him so that I won't be a zombie at work the following morning. So I need a _plan._

… where do I start?

"What do you want to talk about? The ministry?" I nearly slapped myself. Clearly, current politics and how it affects our situation was a calming topic. That wouldn't keep him awake at _all._

Such a fail.

"Hell no," he said, proving my guess correctly. "I want to talk about you."

You've got to be kidding me.

"Again?"

"Yes."

"_Why?"_

"We have to get to know each other more," he said, making a very good point. "For the meeting in a few days." I sighed.

I'm too tired for this.

"Maybe in the morning?" I inquired sleepily. He shook his head at my hopeful tone, and I groaned in resignation.

"How about we start over?" he suggested, flipping onto his side to look at me. "Completely. As if we don't know each other."

"What for?"

"Because we met in _broom cupboard,_" he pointed out, clearly trying not to laugh. "And while that's extremely suggestive, you were crying your eyes out one minute, laughing hysterically the next and altogether trying to destroy me."

Merlin, that's embarrassing. Did I really do all that in front of a stranger?

Just leave it to me to make a complete fool out of myself. I'm practically a Hufflepuff. Just lock me in the tower with the Fat Friar and watch me shrivel into a ball of fluff.

Actually, please don't. I'd probably make the jolly ghost cry.

I felt my face turn bright red and hot. "I wasn't trying to destroy you," I mumbled, looking away, "and I don't normally act that way."

"I noticed," he said, lifting himself so he could hold out his hand. "So let's start over. Hi, I'm Al."

I took it and shook. "I'm Emily."

"I love chocolate." I burst into laughter. He looked pleased.

"I like…" I thought for a second, smiling at the summer memories that came in my mind. "Ice cream."

"Chocolate ice cream?"

"Vanilla," I retorted, my eyes sparkling from mirth. He smirked.

"Vanilla lover."

"Chocolate lover."

"I played Quidditch in school," he said, launching into his introduction. "Played Seeker, like my dad. That seemed to annoy James a bit, but I couldn't ever compare to him in skill. He plays for the Magpies, but he'll still play with me and Lily every summer." He lay on his back, mind barely in the room. "My favourite subject in school was Astronomy, and I work as a journalist at the _Daily Prophet_. I go running every morning."

"So do I," I told him, feeling flabbergasted that we actually had something in common. Who would've thought? "I played Quidditch in school because the team couldn't find a keeper. I…" I bit my lip, looking up at him again. "I can't think of anything else to say."

"Why do you want to be a Healer?"

"I admire my dad," I confessed after a pause, "and all the work he does. I really liked Potions in school, for some reason."

"Weren't you the one who blew up a cauldron on her first day?" he asked, sniggering a little. I laughed proudly.

"Every year since second." I pushed some hair out from underneath my back and over my pillow. "I really love helping people, too. I was a tomboy when I was younger, and couldn't exactly get out of that. My friends at school hated it."

"Who were your friends?"

"They were a group of Slytherin girls. Popular," I added smirking. "Liked to bully people, but I usually didn't join in. They kicked me out after –" I swallowed, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind. Al seemed to sense I didn't go on, because he didn't ask. I was grateful for it.

"I remember now," he said, nodding. "There were all sorts of rumours going around with how they used you to get to Scorpius.

I shrugged. "Tried. Didn't work."

"Evidently," he answered, lips twitching. "So you didn't have many good friends at Hogwarts, then?"

"Did you see anyone tonight?" I asked, laughing ironically. "They didn't like my fashion sense, either – I hate being girly."

"That would explain why you were complaining about wearing a dress all evening," he said in a bored voice, his eyes suggesting amusement.

"Shut up, that was a sweaty dress."

"And a tux isn't?"

"Touché."

"Thanks." We fell into silence again. Was it normal to act like best friends one minute and feel incredibly awkward the next?

We should have a code word for awkwardness so we can strike up a conversation immediately.

… or maybe not.

And now I was feeling wide awake. My plan was working in _his _favour.

Bloody Gryffindors, they always win everything.

Damn you, Albus Potter.

"My name's not Emily Goyle anymore," I realized out loud – almost as if I was seeking confirmation from the ceiling above me. I could see Al smiling in the corner of my eye.

"How does it feel, being a Potter?" he asked, holding a fist in front of my face like a microphone. I lightly pushed his hand away, which was hovering very close to my chest.

Don't think I don't know what's going on in that mind, Potter. I'm onto you.

Except I don't mean on _top _of him, because… never mind. Please ignore my sleep-driven mind.

"It feels... important."

"It does?" I smirked. I could tell I surprised him.

"When it's not," I added cheerfully, nudging him.

He scowled. "Oi!"

"I just think," I clarified, turning to look at him again, "that it feels more important than it should. I mean, 'Potter' is just a name."

Perceptive as ever, Al understood immediately what I was trying to say. "I hate the attention reporters give me."

"I noticed."

"I don't deserve it."

"I noticed that, too." He laughed and wiped his forehead of sweat again, yawning widely. I followed suit without thinking.

"So you _really _don't care that you're a 'Potter'?" he asked sceptically. I shrugged, feeling sleep overcoming me again.

"I do. 'Emily Goyle' sounds better."

"It sounds _familiar._I like 'Emily Potter', personally." I scowled, internally squirming at the name.

"Are you purposefully trying to piss me off?"

"Yep. Is it working?" I took a deep, calming breath, trying not to get irritated again. I don't understand how we can get along so well one minute, and getting on each other's nerves the next. It was like the first time we _really _talked, the day the law was passed. It was the first time I had a little hope, because I thought we had become friends.

Oh, and then he pissed me off again.

"No." I settled in my thoughts for a few moments. "It is _really _hot."

"I know I am." I snorted as Al let out a laugh, relaxing just a tiny bit more.

My plan is working!

… now, if only I can get him to fall asleep…

"Do you mind if I take off my shirt? It really is too hot." I glanced at him, surprised by his request.

He wasn't he serious, was he?

When he took my silence as confirmation, he quickly went to the hem to take it off – before I stopped him, feeling absolutely horrified. How does he not understand the simple concept of _sharing _a bed?

"Bloody – _yes, _I mind!" I spluttered, my hands still over his. He looked confused.

"You do?"

"Of course!" I insisted, plopping back on the right side of the bed again. "Contrary to what you may believe, I'm not actually attracted to you."

Or, possibly, I'd never be able to sleep if he was shirtless. Or stop myself from drooling.

Rare occurrence, but I'd rather not risk my chances.

"You're not?" His voice was laced in so much disbelief, I had to face him and wonder how large his ego really was.

"No," I told him, eyes narrowed. "I barely know you."

"Known me for two weeks."

"More like one, since you avoided me."

"You don't have to know me to be attracted to me," he decided, crossing his arms. "And besides, if you don't think I'm attractive, then you shouldn't care."

I tried not to stammer. "That's ridiculous."

"So you _are _attracted to me."

"No."

"Well then," he said, his smirk dancing in front of my eyes, "what's the problem?"

"I just think it'd be awkward," I told him, blush creeping up my neck.

"More like _distracting_."

"_Al," _I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

"What?" he groaned back, making it sound sexier than I'd like to admit.

"If you're so hot, go sleep shirtless on the _couch!_"

His face screwed up in indignation. "If you have a problem, why don't you go?"

"Why don't _you?_"

"I can't fall asleep on a couch, and I have work tomorrow!"

"So do I!"

"Well, then," he said grumpily, crossing his arms. "I guess we'll just have to keep sharing the damn bed, then." I took another look at him and burst into laughter.

Merlin, the boy was _pouting_!

Did you know that boys could pout? It's rather amusing.

Al regarded me wearily, lips twitching. "Emotional, much?"

"Shut up, I'm not," I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. "We're just _really _spoiled." I looked over to him again to see a grin finally cracking on his face and laughing with me.

It was true, wasn't it? We were two seventeen-year-olds, barely out of school, used to being cleaned up after and food magically appearing on gold plates. We slept in warm beds that we couldn't bother to make ourselves and lived in a bloody _castle _for seven years.

This was going to take some getting used to.

Maybe we should find a house elf.

… on second thought, let's not subject the poor creature into meeting the demands of some spoiled teenagers who happened to be married, living in a house and hiding from the ministry.

I closed my eyes, trying to forget.

* * *

I hate him. I hate him _so _much.

My plan completely backfired. Now he's snoring (and let me tell you: I have _no _idea how my mum stood my dad's snoring for all these years), and if I were sleeping, I'd probably be unconsciously kicking him by now.

Yep, I kick in my sleep.

I don't feel guilty in the slightest. Want to know why?

BECAUSE I CAN'T SLEEP!

And you know the worst part? He's only been asleep for _five minutes,_and I'm already pissed off. For someone who supposedly can't sleep when sharing a bed, he fell asleep rather quickly. Perhaps he's just exhausted, like me.

But he's not _really_ sleeping. I mean, he's sleeping, but he hasn't let his guard down. It's almost unbelievable, but his body is still stiff and tense, he thrashes around a lot, his snoring is _so loud…_

I groaned and stuffed my pillow over my face. Damn him. Damn him to hell.

Do you think it's acceptable to strangle your husband?

I sighed. He's smart, I'll give him that. 'Starting over' really was a good way to get to know each other, even if it was nowhere _near_what we should know. I was hoping the ministry would buy it.

And Holly Birch.

It didn't help that my so-called friends at Hogwarts had harassed and humiliated her just a couple of years ago (this was before her father became Minister of Magic). It didn't help that right then, at that moment, she was burning in jealousy over a husband that I don't want. It didn't help that she, out of everyone, knows our secret.

I moaned. This was _never_ going to work. We're _screwed_.

"Will you _shut up_?" I lifted the pillow off my face and realized I'd woken up Al with my excessive whining noises.

Hehe. Whoops.

"You could stop snoring," I shot back, turning around and stuffing my face back into my pillow. "I'm bloody exhausted."

"Then _sleep._"

"Don't you think I would have if I could?" I snapped. I rolled back over on my side, facing him as he spoke.

"You woke me up."

"You'll live."

"But now I won't fall back sleep."

"You can live without sleep."

"Not for long. And as a Healer, you should know that." I groaned.

"You have no idea how much I despise you at the moment," I grumbled, trying to push away my nerves for tomorrow morning. "What time is it?"

"Dunno," he answered, yawning and giving into his sleepy senses. "Too bloody hot."

"Wish we had a fan."

"I'll get one tomorrow," he promised, rubbing his eyes. "Anything else we should know about each other, then?"

I put my hands behind my head, enjoying the slightly cool feel of the pillow on my neck. "I don't _think _so…" I contemplated, trailing off as I watched him wipe sweat from the back of his own neck, his shirt lifting up a little from the movement.

Damn. Maybe I am attracted to him.

… I'm delusional. Sleep deprived. Pay no attention to the nonsense forming in my mind.

Emily," Al said suddenly, rolling back over to look at me properly. I blinked, trying to avert my eyes.

"What?"

"Are we really going to get any sleep tonight?"

"I'm hoping to."

"But realistically…"

I sighed. "What do you want?"

"Can you tell me what Scorpius said at the reception?" I stiffened.

"Were you waiting for the right moment to ask that?" I asked, trying to avoid answering and letting out a laugh. He ignored me, unfazed.

"Why were you so upset?"

I turned my back to him, feeling my smirk droop. "It was stupid."

"Bet it wasn't."

"How'd you figure that?"

"You've always had a good reason to be upset." I turned to see the sincerity in his expression – and it was probably the thing that made me tell him.

I am a failure as a Slytherin.

"Scorpius told me he didn't think I should've gotten married, and it was just a reckless an action as sleeping with you. And," I whispered, my eyes burning a little, "that I wasn't myself anymore, being this irrational." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Al exhaled a breath he'd been holding. "He's wrong," he said firmly. I hated how he could sound so sure of himself. "The last word to describe this all is irrational."

"Tell that to me when you're okay with sharing a bed." He let out a soft laugh that danced through the darkness, drifting and lazing in the truth behind Scorpius' words.

* * *

"You go running, too." He opened his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping, so I didn't feel guilty about bothering him this time.

At least, not _too _much.

"Yep, he said dully. "Every morning. I choose my work hours, so it's usually an hour before I leave."

"Have you ever run in the rain?" Silence followed my words. He was either:

1. Surprised I actually started the conversation (I'm not _that_ antisocial)  
2. Didn't understand the question (I'd bet on this one)  
3. Trying to figure me out (like he'd been trying all night)  
4. Snoring (wait… nope)  
5. Thinking of ways to escape (I can't blame him, honestly. I'm a bloody bore)

… or _maybe _I was over-analyzing. As usual.

Yeah, bet on that option instead. Rake in the galleons.

He exhaled loudly. "You're really strange."

"That's not an answer –"

"I mean, first," he said dramatically, ticking off points on his fingers, "you tell me you're a vanilla lover –"

"I resent that," I interrupted, biting back a smile. "There are many who like vanilla." He ignored me.

"_Then _you tell me you've been cheated on –"

I narrowed my eyes. "How does that make _me _strange?"

"Your group of friends?" He raised an eyebrow. "They scared half the school. It would be a little strange for you to be cheated on when you have _them _behind your back."

"I was kicked out before I was cheated on, if that explains anything," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. "Next point."

He sighed. "I don't mean to keep offending you."

"It's not _my _fault you have the sensitivity of a monkey." He went quiet for another moment, and I squirmed in the uncomfortable silence.

"I haven't gone running in the rain before."

Well, look at that. He _did _remember the question!

"Besides running the risk of getting pneumonia, it's really breathtaking," I whispered, the words pouring out of my mouth by their own accord. "Everything beats down, and sometimes it gets stronger, louder. It's irregular," I added, remembering. "It's just the smell of everything coming alive around you, and you just keep running and running and running…"

"Away?"

This boy never ceases to surprise me.

"I try not to run away from things."

"But we all do," he whispered reasonably. "I once wrote this article on a lady who witnessed a crime, but didn't go to officials for fifteen years."

I reached to my hair and twisted it. "Don't tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?"

"I'm afraid. All the time." If he was surprised by my confession, he didn't show it.

Oh, how could he be surprised? It's pretty damn obvious.

"You really confuse a guy, Emily," he said, still speaking to the side of my face. "One minute we're fighting, another minute we're laughing and the next, you come up with _this._"

"Running in the rain?"

"Telling the truth."

… oh.

I hadn't meant to do that again_._

* * *

_Poke._

"Al, go to sleep," I mumbled sleepily, wandering slowly back into a state of unconsciousness.

"I can't." His voice was reproachful.

"Why not?"

"It's too hot."

"Take off your shirt if you really need to," I said grudgingly.

"I already did." _What the hell?_

"I told you not to!" I exclaimed, trying not to smack himself. Or him.

Smacking him seems like a very good option at the moment.

"You were sleeping; I didn't think you'd notice."

"You're the one who told me," I muttered, yawning. "Al, why would you wake me up?"

He sighed from behind, twisting me around by my shoulders so he could speak to my face. "I'm anxious."

"For _what?_" I asked, my eyes fluttering closed.

"I don't _know_," he answered, sounding extremely frustrated. "Fix it."

Is he delusional?

It's been a long day, I suppose.

"Go eat chocolate. I'm not doing anything at five in the morning."

"It's actually only two." My eyes snapped open.

"You mean to say you woke me up after I fell asleep for _twenty minutes_?" I whispered menacingly, lifting my head off the pillow. He ran a hand through his hair, smiling sheepishly.

"Don't kill me?"

"Just because I'm a Slytherin, it doesn't mean I'll _kill _you," I said, trying not to let my eyes wander to his bare chest. I shut my eyes and lay on my back, hoping he wouldn't notice my face heating.

"Emily, I'm not going through this every night. If you can fall asleep while knowing you're in danger, at least share how you do it." I sighed in resignation.

He wasn't going to let me sleep, was he?

"Lie down." I felt him shift beside me. "Close your eyes and clear your mind."

"Clear my mind?"

"Stop thinking," I clarified, already drifting asleep. He poked me again.

If he pokes me _one more time…_

"You're always thinking. How do you stop?"

"If it helps, think about one word and repeat it in your head."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, just pick one," I said irritably, trying to fall back until unconsciousness.

"All that's coming to mind is Ministry, Minister, Dementors…" I groaned.

"Are you _trying _to be difficult?"

"No, I'm just…"

"Spit it out."

"Nervous," he confessed guiltily. I peeked at him again; he really did look distressed.

And built – I mean, I'm not looking at his chest. I have self-control.

Shut up.

Merlin, why did he take off his shirt?

"If it helps, nothing's going to happen to you no matter what," I told him truthfully. "It'll be my family in trouble, not yours."

"That doesn't help at all, Em," he said, and I saw hurt in his eyes. "Do you really think that's who I am?"

I bit my lip. "You have no reason to care, Albus."

"But I do."

The words hit me like a wave of shock. He might've been too tired to notice, because he merely wiped sweat off his forehead before flipping onto his stomach and stuffing his face in his pillow.

"I think we should be friends."

Once I had deciphered the muffled words, I cleared my throat. "Why?"

"Because I'd rather go through this with a friend than an enemy. And before you say it," he added quickly, lifting his face, "we're not enemies. But in your twisted, Slytherin mind, we somehow are."

"That's bullshit."

"You're bullshit. Friends?" I bit my lip again to keep myself from laughing and giving him the satisfaction.

"Friends," I agreed. He yawned and rolled over, leaving me wide awake with something pulling uneasily in my chest.

It was a strange thought, Albus Potter feeling concern for me.


	10. Albus: The Grudge

**Chapter Ten: Albus: The Grudge**

Did you know that Emily crinkles her nose in her sleep?

Yeah, she does it all the time. She also curls up in a ball, mumbles intelligently (no actual words. Damn) and smiles a lot – much more often than when she's awake.

Or maybe she smiles, and I just haven't seen it.

And no, it's not creepy that I've been sneaking glances at her for the last… I don't even know. It's not like I fell asleep for more than five minutes at a time, so I should have full right to sneak jealous glances at her, sleeping peacefully.

Don't get me wrong; I _know _Emily's not going to kill me in my sleep. Honestly, she looks so harmless when she's sleeping, and it's hard to remember how tense and resistant she usually is around me. No, it's just a privacy issue; people tend to be the most vulnerable while they're asleep.

Which is why I'm surprised Emily trusts me enough.

I mean, I guess I spent practically all of yesterday trying to build some kind of friendship and trust. She makes it seem like there's something she's hiding, but I'm beginning to think she's just too full of worry to be herself. It's really unnerving, sometimes, getting these small glimpses of who she really is.

I watched guiltily as her eyelashes fluttered a little, but didn't open. This was beyond creepy, but my book is boring and I really have nothing else to do but talk to the ceiling some more.

See? This is what happens when I don't get enough sleep.

I yawned into the back of my hand and flipped a page of the book I had found in my trunk. I skimmed through the lines, not really reading as I resisted the urge to bury my hand into her hair and push it off her face.

Dammit, why is she so cute when she's asleep?

I yawned again and set the book aside on a table, letting it close shut as I lay my head back down onto my pillow. I stretched, thinking of the interview I had at one o'clock. Only seven more hours to go.

The morning light splashed against the walls as I started upwards. The ceiling and I had become well acquainted in the past four hours; it now knows that Lily and James set a Niffler on me when I was asleep. That creature practically devoured my clothes because my _dear _siblings had planted various shiny and valuable objects in my pockets.

Did I mention I was four?

I'll take the ceiling's silence as a nod of approval and understanding.

I sighed and ran a hand through my now very greasy hair and resorted to watching Emily's sleeping figure again. Her fetal position was so tight, I was surprised she was still asleep. I reached out again to move her fringe, and froze.

It's as if my hand moved of its own accord.

That's _weird._

Her breathing was slow and deep. The strands of hair fell on her cheek, and she scrunched up her nose, as if they were tickling her.

_Don't give in,_ I chanted to myself, rather guiltily might I add. _It's not bothering her, she's not waking up, so it shouldn't be bothering me, and WHAT IS MY HAND DOING NOW – _

Ah, screw it. I'm too tired to fight myself.

I (very reluctantly, I swear) gave into my urge and pushed the strands of brown hair off her cheeks. Against my own will, my hand rested on her scalp, the heat warming my hand. She mumbled a little and I quickly pulled back.

Merlin, hair that soft should be illegal.

She smiled again, her mouth closed and her eyes wrinkling slightly. I felt almost reassured, in a sense; this was who she really was. She couldn't hide that kind of thing in her sleep. It was a relief to know that this girl could smile without trying to manipulate someone.

Unless she was manipulating someone her sleep.

That's really worrying.

She let out another soft, muffled sigh and shivered. My eyes practically bugged out of their sockets; this girl was _cold_? It's practically a million degrees in here! It's boiling outside, not to mention this sauna of a house.

(The size doesn't help, by the way.)

I grabbed the thin blanket that had been pushed to the end of the bed and covered her with it. Immediately, she let out another moan and twisted, successfully wrapping herself in some sort of cocoon. I flinched in surprise.

Is this girl actually asleep?

Then, just as suddenly, she turned over again and sidled up against my side, the ends of her hair tickling my ribs.

Oh, yeah. She was _definitely _asleep.

And oddly enough, I wasn't complaining.

I reached over to the bedside table, shoved my glasses on and opened the book again, trying to ignore her light breath hitting my stomach. _'Indeed, Wendlin the Weird enjoyed being burnt so much that she allowed herself to be caught no fewer than forty-seven times in various disguises.'_

… what the _hell _am I reading?

Of all books, I can't believe I brought a history book with me. I couldn't have thrown _Quidditch Through the Ages _in there, could I have?

My irritated thoughts were interrupted by Emily's quiet mumblings, tugging the blanket closer and closer to herself. All my irritation seemingly rushed out of me as I sighed, tossed the book on the floor, took off my glasses, lay back down and closed my eyes. Emily nuzzled her head into my stomach.

I am _never_ going to be able to forget that image. It's too darn cute.

* * *

"Al. Wake up."

"Mmmfff."

"_Wake up._"

"No way in apples."

"Apples?" asked the amused voice.

"Yes. I like apples."

"I thought you liked chocolate."

"Yeah. And sleep. And hair."

"… _hair_?"

"And sleep." She laughed lightly.

"You know, you fell asleep." My eyes drifted open to see Emily sitting on the foot of the bed, eating toast.

Well, I hope it's toast. Things are kind of fuzzy without my glasses.

"How long did I sleep for?"

"Dunno," she answered, taking another bite of the bread. "Rose woke me up at eight, and you were asleep at that time. We're leaving in fifteen minutes, by the way." Her cheery voice was irritating to my groggy senses.

"Are you a morning person?" I mumbled, stuffing my face into my pillow.

"Sort of, are you?"

"Usually." I turned around and sat up, rubbing my eyes. "When I get more than two hours of sleep, that is." I yawned. "What's got you in a good mood, then?"

"Scorpius apologized," she answered smugly, taking the last bite of toast and dusting off her hands. She swallowed before speaking. "He's still kind of mad, but I think he's forgiven me. But," she added with a mischievous smile, "he still hates you."

"Ooh, didn't see that one coming," I taunted sarcastically. I shoved my glasses on and squinted at the sunlight bursting through the windows. "Aren't you leaving?"

"Thanks for that." She rolled her eyes. "Makes me think you don't want me here."

"Not surprising."

"I thought we were friends, now," she piped up, smirking.

"Too tired for that."

"In that case…" she lifted her legs onto the bed and crossed them, looking serious for the first time. "We have to talk about the Ministry later."

I smacked a hand to my forehead. "And I thought we could just wing it."

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" she asked impatiently.

"No, not really."

She began to pull and twist her hair again. I noticed she did that a lot whenever she was nervous. "What are we going to say?"

"What are they going to ask?"

"Our story," she began, listing off her fingers as she went on. "I'm sure they'll ask you, since you're, well…"

"Me," I finished, purposefully grinning arrogantly.

She nodded. "Yeah. They'll ask your views on former Death Eaters. They'll review your criminal record. They'll ask where we are in our marriage."

I rubbed my eyes again, my head feeling too heavy for my liking. "And Holly?" He her twisting became more frantic. I wonder if she noticed.

"We'll find out. The fact that we haven't been called in early…" she trailed off, biting her lip. She was worried.

I have no idea how she managed to sleep.

I tried doing what she told me. It didn't work that well.

"Let's hope, okay?" She nodded in agreement. "You ready to heal people?"

"It's not really healing," she explained, looking away. "It's more like observing and getting used to the environment. Practical application."

"And you get to spend some time with your dad." As I predicted, her lips formed into a slight smile.

I wish she smiled more often.

"I'm still sort of nervous," she admitted, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. I waved a hand, yawned and lay back frown, my glasses squishing slightly as I turned onto my side. "Don't you have an interview today?"

"Mhmm."

"What's it about?" I raised an eyebrow, even if she couldn't see it. She's actually interested in an aspect of my life?

"Some guy who's on probation and begging for innocence."

To my surprise, she took in a sharp death. "An ex-Death Eater?" My stomach sank.

Crap. Like her father. My father-in-law.

…crap.

"I…" I turned back over to look at her. "I'm supposed to be making this guy sound ridiculous. It's what my boss wants."

"But…" I could see her struggle between trying to convince me to do what's right, or to listen to my boss. Her forehead creased in concentration, and she chewed her lip constantly. If I wasn't so tired, I probably would have found a way out of this. In the end, she said nothing of the subject.

She stood up. "I'm going to work." I felt guilt plunge into me immediately and grabbed her hand, trying to stop her.

"If I had the choice –"

"It's fine," she said, her expression suggesting the opposite. "I understand."

I still felt awful. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to –"

"No, I understand," she interrupted, looking straight in my eyes. "Really, I get it. The problem is that you're publishing an article that suggests you support the ministry, when in court –"

"– I'm supporting you," I said in a hollow voice. My head dropped into my hands. "Shit."

Emily looked pale. "There's too much the ministry is can have on us. I don't know…"

"Well, we're already married," I pointed out, my stomach feeling tight and uneasy. I took a deep breath, attempting to keep my cool. "And the ministry is expecting us tomorrow."

"We can't back out, I know." She swallowed and looked at me, trembling a little. "I have to go to work in five minutes.

I nodded, mind racing. "Good luck…" She nodded in thanks but didn't move. I knew her worries had overcome her again.

I didn't understand why she thought she was alone.

I don't know what made me do it. Maybe it was how discouraged she looked. Maybe it was the fact that I _liked _how she felt in my arms. Maybe, somehow, I have this inexplicable need to comfort her.

And _maybe _it was the fact that I was feeling overly hormonal.

Either way, I reached over and pulled her against my chest, surprising her enough to make some sort of startled noise.

"You just squeaked, didn't you?" I asked in an amused voice, feeling slightly awkward as she didn't wrap her arms around me, like one would normally expect from a hug.

Although, when it comes to Emily, I'm never sure what to expect.

"I didn't _squeak,_" she said the same small voice, trying to free herself from my grasp. "Al, I'm not _that _upset. You don't need to hug me."

"Yes, you are." I pulled back slightly and frowned. "Why are you blushing?"

She struggled some more. "I'm not."

"You _are,_" I said, feeling a little stunned. Just when I thought she couldn't get prettier.

"I'm _not_!" she insisted, still twisting and turning, arms pinned to her sides. "Al, let me go!"

"_Why_?" I felt dumbfounded. She was fine a moment ago. She hadn't acted like this last night, when I followed out with my strange urges to hug her. Why was she blushing? What was going on?

I groaned. I won't get these sort of things out of my head, you know.

"Because I don't want to hug you!" she said indignantly, answering the wrong question. "I think you've been hanging around your female cousins too often. Not everyone needs a hug when they're the least bit worried."

I laughed. "I'm just trying to help."

"Letting go would help." She'd freed her arms and was attempting to push my hands off her waist.

I set my chin on her shoulder, looking at her with wide, innocent eyes. "Why are you blushing, then?" She frantically peeled my hands away from her body and leapt off the bed. Her cheeks were now flaming beneath her eyes that were glued to the floor as she made her way out of the room.

"I'm going to work."

"Emily –"

"_What_?" she demanded, glaring at me.

I grinned cheekily. "Tell me. You know you want to." I actually had no idea. I was wondering if I could make her blush even more.

That's almost Slytherin-evil.

She's rubbing off on me.

She closed her eyes, hand on the doorknob and swinging it forward. "Put on a shirt, Al," she said shortly before fleeing from the room.

I am much more pleased than I should be.

* * *

"Does Emily usually blush that much?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, looking at me in surprise. That's right, I'm actually talking to the bloke who punched my face in two weeks ago.

Eh, how mad could he be?

"Emily doesn't blush," he said shortly, smoothing his paper on the paper where he was seated and looking suspiciously at me. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," I said cheerfully. I ran a hand through my hair that was still wet from the shower. I noticed he was still looking at me with that murderous expression. "Honestly!" I added hastily.

Merlin, I'm sickeningly cheerful.

"Don't be too happy," Malfoy replied in a bored voice, eyes going back to the newspaper. "She won't fall for you that easily." My smile faded immediately at his words.

I don't want Emily to fall for me. That'll just screw everything up.

"Disappointed, Potter?"

"Emily is a Potter, too," I retaliated, the subtle triumph in his lazy voice prickling at my neck. To my dismay, he merely shrugged and turned a page of his newspaper.

Bloody Slytherin.

"So, you still hate me, huh?" I said conversationally, sitting across from him. He didn't look up from the column he was reading as he spoke.

"Yep."

"But you're not mad at Emily anymore."

"No."

"Eh," I sat back in my chair, stretching a little. "Suppose that's good enough." His lips twitched involuntarily, still determinedly not looking at me.

"Is it?"

"As long as you don't take it out on Rose. Got any food?" I shoved my chair back and sleepily made my way to the kitchen. Thankfully, Rose and Malfoy had been able to open up the house with our good 'ol friend magic. They destroyed a couple of walls and placed undetectable extension charms everywhere a visiting muggle neighbour couldn't reach. Sadly, the house was still such that if two people were to try and walk side by side through the hallway, they couldn't.

Well, they sort of could. They'd just be squished.

Oh, the joys of living in a muggle neighbourhood.

I walked into the kitchen, which was equally as narrow as the hallway in its walking space. The counters lined the strip of tiles, muggle appliances tucked neatly beside underneath on top of or in between. I opened the door of the white, small fridge and was met with almost… nothing.

Just cold air.

This is frightening for a growing teenage boy.

"There's toast," Malfoy called. He'd taken down one of the walls in the kitchen, so I could see his pointed face smirking at my displeasure and growling stomach. I glanced at the dining room, where he was trying hard not to laugh. "I think there's some coffee left."

"Any eggs?"

He laughed. "You can go grocery shopping if you'd like." I groaned in disappointment. I hate shopping.

Bloody hell, I miss my mother's cooking already. Emily's right, we _are _spoiled.

I grabbed the toast and smeared jam onto it, grumbling to myself. The bad mood I had when I woke up was resurfacing, and Malfoy's smug expression wasn't helping.

"I have a question," I began, sitting back down in front of him and placing my plate of pitiful toast in front of me. "What are you and Rose going to do at the ministry? I mean, I know your meeting isn't tomorrow, but what are you going to say?"

He gave me an odd look. "We're taking Veritaserum." My mouth flew open, revealing chewed up bits of toast.

_Shit._

I didn't even _think _of the truth potion.

"You… you're taking it?" I choked out weakly. He looked at me with questioning eyes.

"What's it to you, Potter?"

"We can't take it!" The words were out of my mouth as soon as I thought them.

Well. My mouth is now controlling itself.

… I hope this wears off before Emily gets home tonight.

"Why can't you take it?"

"It's an invasion of privacy," I invented wildly, trying not to reveal my panic. Merlin, Emily is better than this than I am. Why isn't she here?

"Well, I guess it's a good thing your father passed that law, then, isn't it?" he said with raised eyebrows. He flipped the paper over, and I stared at him suspiciously.

"What law?"

His eyes narrowed. "Your father had an experience of being forced Veritaserum from Deslores Umbridge –"

I interrupted with a laugh. "Oh, I remember this story. James calls it _The Toad-Faced Woman's Obsessions…_"

He rolled his eyes. "Point is, he passed a law forbidding the forced use of it. You can either take Veritaserum and be on probation or they'll take extra precautions in ensuring the truth out of you."

Extra precautions.

I didn't like the sound of that.

I finished my toast in silence, anticipating the meeting. I guessed I had so much more to discuss with Emily; the plans and circumstances kept changing too often to keep track of. Suddenly, winging it didn't seem like an idea that was too far off.

Crap. I hope Emily doesn't get upset again.

I mean, I understand why she does. I just wish she wouldn't, and then deny it as soon as it happens.

"You should forgive Emily," I said abruptly, tapping the wooden table with my fingers, one by one. "She misses you."

"I did forgive her."

"Forgiving probably includes accepting what she's done," I added. His voice was weary and slow – like he _really _didn't want to be having this conversation.

Well, tough cookies.

(Remind me to get those. Chocolate chip cookies are amazing.)

"Why should I accept it, Potter?"

"Because I think she needs a real friend right now," I told him. ."One that isn't me."

I felt like a wise old man. Hey, I was named after one; maybe I should grow a long, white beard.

… never mind.

"You're not friends."

"We're trying."

He nodded curtly, actually accommodating what I had to say. "I still hate you, Potter."

I snorted. "Funny; I thought we should try to get along, for my cousin's sake."

"You've screwed with my best friend's life," he said quietly, looking me straight in the eye. "Maybe I have a good reason for not wanting to forgive you."

"It takes two people for what we did, Malfoy," I said, playing with a bread crumb off my plate. "Not one." He kept silent; I had the distinct impression he was trying to keep himself from exploding.

That would be one, big explosion. Have you seen the size of his head?

…then again, I shouldn't be talking.

"Potter," he said suddenly, making me jump in my seat. "Why did you never hate me for dating Rose?"

I blinked. "Why would I hate you for that?"

"Her dad did. I just thought…"

I rolled my eyes. "Uncle Ron never hated you. He hated your dad." He nodded in understanding and went back to his newspaper. It looked like he wasn't ready to forgive me, even if I had already forgiven him.

I mean, all he did was punch my face in. No big deal.

I'm sure we'll best buddies by the end of this.

As the sarcastic thought came through my mind, Malfoy shoved his chair back, throwing me another glare before storming out of the room.

Or maybe we could try to avoid killing each other.

Anyone who's actually _awake _who could help me?

***Quote is from _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_, page one.**


	11. Emily: The Hottie

**Chapter Eleven: Emily: The Hottie**

"Are you allowed to flirt with Healers when you're married?" I asked longingly upon seeing one of the younger employees at St. Mungo's. Rose laughed, wagging her fork in my direction and leaned forward on the cafeteria table.

"Al would be disappointed." I gave a non-committal jerk.

"Nah."

"Would you want _him _to flirt with other girls?"

"No."

She sighed dramatically. "Demanding wife."

"Not in love with my husband."

"But you've got a _baby_," she declared tenderly, dropping her eyes down to my stomach. I squirmed. "Not showing yet?"

I swallowed, even though I hadn't taken a bite out of my stale tuna sandwich. "No, it's only been a few weeks."

"What are you going to name it?" she asked eagerly.

"Not sure," I said awkwardly, taking a large bite to avoid feeling so. Rose shrugged. Over the past few days while working together, she had really lightened up around me; perhaps she wasn't too worried about me coming in between her and Scorpius now that I was married? Honestly, I could say we've actually become _friends._

It's a little strange, becoming friends with someone _after _they got together with Scorpius.

I glanced at the Hot Healer (as we dubbed him) again, taking in the perfect sight of him. Great body, fair skin, light brown hair… he looked _perfect._ Not to mention, he was _perfectly _oblivious to the many females around the cafeteria that were staring at him.

But with a guy as hot as he is, who cares?

"How old d'you think he is?" I asked absent-mindedly while chewing. Rose observed him, the dreamy look slightly less prominent in her eyes.

"I'd say around six years older."

"Six years, you reckon?" I asked thoughtfully, staring openly in his direction. "That's not bad, is it?" She kicked me lightly, and I laughed. "Calm yourself, I'm joking."

She rolled her eyes. "Scorpius is hotter." I wrinkled my nose.

"Ew, not a chance."

"He totally is."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "I've seen him in _diapers, _Rose."

"Wouldn't you have been in diapers, too?"

"Oh, shut it," I replied, laughing along with her.

The dingy cafeteria was dull – much like most cafeterias in hospitals. If my loved one was being treated, I would _hate _to be sitting in this area. Grey colour schemes are not pleasing at any rate.

Rose and I just gone through our fourth morning at our work placement, and I have to say, I was really enjoying it. I'm not sure if I would have if Rose wasn't here; I mean, I do like observing Healers at work – especially one in particular – but honestly? It got boring, watching them change bandages, give injections, cast spells, etc. It was practical application that I wanted to do, and that would come later.

It's really no wonder why I loved potions class so much.

Rose and I didn't have anything in common, really. She was obsessed with Quidditch (not surprisingly, with a family like hers), but she was… _girly._Not overly so, like some of my "friends" back at Hogwarts, but enough to create enough of a separation between us.

Oddly enough, however, without Rose's nerves, we got along. Really well.

I wasn't used to having real friends who were girls. Rose truly didn't want anything from me (besides Al's money, but she already got that), and because of that, it was so easy to trust this bubbly, sarcastic and feisty girl.

Funnily enough, Scorpius told me a long time ago that it's what he wanted in a girl.

(I teased him for weeks.)

Rose and I _did _share one thing in common: we both tend to overanalyze things.

Oh, and we like scoping for guys. Even _she _admitted Hot Healer was fit.

… this is rather shameful behaviour for married women, isn't it?

Whoops.

Nevertheless, Rose and I had spent the past four days giggling behind Healers' backs, commenting on the length of their trousers (you'd think this wasn't an issue, but…), rating them on a scale of one to ten (and I'm not talking about healing) and generally making snide remarks.

It's a special sort of friendship, I think.

Never thought I'd say _that._

I swallowed the last bit of my sandwich and brushed some crumbs off my hands. "Alright," I said, looking around the room again, "if you were to stuck on an island with _him _–" I discreetly nodded towards Hot Healer "– or _him _–" I gestured towards a blonde-haired employee in his thirties, speaking to his wife "– or _him_," I indicated towards a red-head in the corner, picking at his nails. "Who would you marry, who would you rescue and who would you drown?" Rose collapsed in a git of giggles.

"My mum described this game to me, once," she said, stabbing her fork into her pasta salad. "Em, these are tough choices."

"That's the point," I said, grinning evilly. "Come on, choose." She sighed, glancing at each other them. I waited.

"He's sort of cute," she said finally, pointing to the blonde-haired man. I made a face.

"I just tested you to see if you could think of anyone but Scorpius," I said seriously, trying not to smirk, "and you failed."

A small smile made its way across her face. "You mean I passed?"

"In a way, I guess," I admitted grudgingly. In truth, I felt relieved that Rose had genuine feelings for Scorp. "But you'll look at other guys eventually."

"But it's _love_, Em!" she said happily, swinging an arm around my shoulders. I laughed at the glee in her voice, feeling almost jealous. "Just wait until you fall for Al; it's a great feeling, love."

I exhaled. "I am _not _falling in love with Al," I said for the umpteenth time, pushing my garbage into the bin before exiting the room with Rose, arm still suspended around me. "Besides, I don't understand him at all."

"What do you mean?"

"I just feel like he's hiding something," I decided after a moment of mulling it over. "I don't think he's _acting _happy, per se, but…" I bit my lip. "I think he's happy because he doesn't allow himself to feel anything else." Rose looked at me like I was going bonkers.

Just as well. I've been an emotional wreck lately.

She slid her arm off me and made to say something – but closed her mouth. Then opened it. And shut it again. Then dropped her jaw – _again._

She kind of looks like a goldfish when she does that.

"Rose?" I teased, snapping my fingers in front of her. "You'll catch a fly in there." She immediately grinned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"There are only three people who understand Al," Rose said in a strained voice, beginning to walk again. "Me, Lily and Aunt Ginny. And you, I suppose," she added as afterthought. I raised my eyebrows.

"I thought I _didn't _understand him."

"Looks like you do."

I cracked a smile. "Is there a reason they're all females?"

"I think males tend not to think about it, much," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure Uncle Harry knows, but most of the time, if they don't have to think about it, they don't."

"Predictably."

"Has Al been sleeping at night?" I felt startled.

What did _sleep _patterns have to do with this?

"Sort of?" I began as we turned a corner. "I mean, everyone's ministry meetings were pushed back by a bit, so I suppose that provided some sort of relief…"

"Emily…"

"Yeah, he is," I realized with a jolt. "Not right away. He likes to talk a bit about what he has to do the next day, and then he falls asleep. Except for the first night…" I faltered at Rose's smirk.

"He _definitely _fell asleep that first night."

"Not this again," I groaned, feeling my face heat immediately. I spotted a restroom and entered it. "I don't know how that happened, Rose!"

"His lack of shirt or the cuddling?" I cringed, not wanting to think about it.

"Both!"

"It took ages to get him to let go of you without waking him," she stated, shaking with uncontrollable laughter. I rubbed at my cheeks, and to my dismay, they only became redder. My frustration showed in the mirror.

This is how I look like around Al half the time.

Wow, attractive.

Rose clutched at the counter, giggles subsiding. "You guys are sweet. And you wonder why you're in the same position every morning."

"It's not my fault!" I whined, giving up on removing my infuriating blush. "He does it in his sleep!"

"You cuddle back."

"I do _not_," I insisted, hating my pale face more and more. I stripped my rubber band from my ponytail and let my hair fall to the sides of my cheeks, effectively hiding them. "Pray tell, what does this have to do with understanding Al and his sleep patterns?"

Rose was smiling dreamily as she pushed herself backwards onto the counter in between two sinks. "I wish you weren't so resistant to him, Em. He trusts you."

I snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. He keeps going on about never trusting Slytherins."

"He doesn't care about that," she said, waving a hand at me. "James put those ideas in his mind when he was younger, but last year, he set a couple of people straight about the prejudice."

My stomach felt oddly light. "He did?"

"Yeah," she replied, nodding. "He was almost sorted into Slytherin."

_Excuse me_?

"Yeah," she repeated upon seeing my expression. "Don't tell him I told you, it's a secret." I nodded, running a hand through my hair.

"Holy _crap_." She laughed, and I shook my head. "No, it's just hard to imagine someone like Al in Slytherin."

"Maybe people who are sorted in Slytherin aren't always the obvious," she contemplated, speaking slowly. "There are people who are sorted because they have the qualities, but those aren't completely defined. Most people are sorted because of their family line."

_Like me._

I silently agreed. "I didn't expect that."

She laughed. "Half of what comes out of his mouth is bullshit. My point is that he trusts you – it's why he's been sleeping."

"I just assumed that he…" I wanted to tell Rose what Al had told me – that he was nervous. I knew Al got nerves and took a little bit of time to get used to the idea before becoming confident again. Al was sleeping, but not particularly peacefully; he still thrashed around all the time. I had just assumed he could sleep because he wasn't as nervous anymore, with the ministry falling behind on trials and giving us more time to _think._

Strangely enough, Rose's explanation made sense. I know he cared – he kept insisting, anyway – but trusting was a different matter. It was strange that he could trust me, but I could trust _Rose _and not him. I mean, he's my husband – what the hell is wrong with me?

I mean, I know I don't trust easy… but why can't I trust Al?

And somehow, I found myself trailing off and dropping the subject as we made our way back to our stations. I didn't tell her about Al's nerves. It wasn't like it was a secret or anything… he never _said _it was, and Rose is his best friend. She just shared something with me. Al would've told her he was nervous. I could've said it, and she would think nothing of it. I could've told her.

But I didn't.

* * *

"You know what sucks?" Al asked, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt. "This fan." I glanced at it; we placed it on top of a muggle appliance called a microwave so it could provide some sensation of cooling down as we sat in the kitchen. We had settled ourselves across from each other on top of the stone counters, the narrow strip of tiled floor in between us.

I brought my thighs to my chest, resting my head on my knees as I look at him. "I agree. Maybe we should open the windows?"

"Probably, if _I'm _cooking," he joked, his eyes crinkling as he laughed. "How is it that Rose is the only one who knows how to cook around here?"

"I know how to make sandwiches," I piped up unhelpfully.

"I'd probably burn those, too."

"That explains the open windows," I said, laughing. "You don't have to heat sandwiches."

"It's not as if I'd know that," he joked again, sliding off the counter and glancing into the fridge. "At least we don't have to plan _their _wedding."

"So you shouldn't be complaining about cooking?" I suggested. Merriment sparkled in his eyes.

"You've never tried my cooking."

"You've never tried _mine._"

He closed his eyes, letting the cool air from the fridge wash over his body. "Let's have a little competition?"

I smirked. I loved competing – and _winning._"What kind?"

"Who can make the best meal?" I jumped off the counter and leaned over Al to peek into the fridge, seeing it full. I turned back to him.

"You're on," I told him, shaking my sweaty hand with his. I was almost a hundred percent sure that I was better than Al – so why not accept?

He paused suddenly, his hand still in mine and a suspicious expression on his face. "You're not going to poison me, are you?" It took all of my self-restraint from bursting into laughter.

_Poison _him? Not that it wasn't an appealing idea…

"Are would I get poison, exactly?" I teased, eyebrows raised. "Your girlfriend?"

Al gave an involuntary twitch. "_Ex-_girlfriend. Why would she have poison?"

"She wants to kill me." He laughed, shutting the fridge door.

"If she _really _wanted to kill you, she would've told the minister by now. I wonder why she hasn't," he added, searching my face for answers. I grimaced.

"I don't want to talk about it." His eyes narrowed into further suspicion.

"But you _always _–"

"It's too hot," I whined obnoxiously, trying not to laugh at my own ridiculous behaviour. His lips twitched, and I could tell he was thinking the same. "We've got a plan, so let's just…"

"Never talk about Holly again?" he suggested. I let out a soft laugh and nodded.

"Exactly."

"Good, I hate that bitch," he said nonchalantly, opening the fridge door again. "Merlin, this feels good..." I rolled my eyes.

"Al, you can't cook and stand in front of the fridge at the same time."

"Au contraire," he declared, pulling out his wand, "Magic will save me!" I bit my lip to stop the chuckle from bursting out.

"It's not going to work, genius. But maybe," I said, the thought suddenly bursting into my mind, "we could spread a freezing charm all over the house? Or some sort of cold air?"

He considered it. "I think Rose said that she didn't want to, because of the muggles in our neighbourhood…" My face fell as I shrugged.

"Worth a try, I guess," I said gloomily, leaning back onto the counter. "Are we going to have this competition or not?"

He didn't bother to bite back his smile this time. "You actually want to do it?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed, going back to peer into the fridge again. "Although I'm not quite sure of what I'm making…"

"You're _actually excited,_" he said in a slightly dazed voice. I glanced sideways at him, and he was staring at me like he'd never seen me before. "This is what Rose was talking about?"

"Rose was talking about me?"

"She said you were one of the funniest people she knows," he began, "and I don't exactly see that too often. She insisted, though."

I felt flattered. "Really?"

"She also said that you were _spirited._" His eyes locked into mine, and I thought I saw a glimmer of triumph. "But I figured that one out for myself."

I faltered for the second time that day. "I..."

"Oh, and something about you flirting with a healer!" he added, snapping his fingers and grinning playfully.

"Shut up, I didn't –"

"Emily, I'm hurt," he teased, expression suggesting the exact opposite.

"But I really didn't –"

"And there comes that blush again!" he said happily, the triumph not only evident in his eyes, but in his voice. I cursed my red cheeks.

WHY AM I SO PASTY?

"You're going down, Potter," I growled, narrowing my eyes.

"Bring it on, Potter."

* * *

This smells good, whatever it is.

And when I say 'whatever it is', I mean that I have no idea why I just mixed all these random things in a potful of boiling hot water. It comprised of a lot of pasta sauce, chicken, broccoli, spinach, cucumbers, mushrooms, spaghetti and rice.

(I've really never cooked before. Rose has been doing the cooking for the last few days.)

But I'm doing better than Al; he couldn't figure out how to use the stove, so he's making himself… _I don't even know._It's a big, grey-ish brown mess.

"I don't want to try that," I told him, eyeing the mush with apprehension. "It looks disgusting."

"Yours looks like a potion," he said moodily, not bothering to deny his epic failure in our competition. "This isn't class, you know."

"I'm just trying to win." I turned back to the stove and turned it off; the soup-ish mixture was bubbling and very close to spilling right over the edge of the pot. "Mine smells better than yours."

"Of course you'd win," he groaned, dropping his elbows onto the counter and rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. "You're female."

I rolled my eyes. "You're full of crap. Your dad cooked all the time before the wedding."

"I was joking."

"That's why I said you're full of crap," I clarified, laughing. "What did you put in that thing, anyway?"

"Potatoes, pepper… and some other stuff," he moaned, his eyes still covered with his hands. "Can I admit defeat now? I'm starving."

I smirked and set the pot on the counter next to him. "I'm not sure this is edible."

"It's food. It's what I _live _for," he said, not altogether joking. I pushed myself onto the counter as he grabbed two bowls and utensils. "I've never been good at potions."

"What were you good at?" I asked, lifting the lid and letting the steam escape.

"Astronomy." He sat on the counter on the other side of the pot, reaching over and grabbing a spoon to pour the soup in his bowl. "I think there was always something about the stars that fascinated me. I wrote a lot about them when I was younger."

"And now?"

He laughed, holding his bowl with two hands. "I don't write stories anymore. Just articles."

"I find it odd," I contemplated, pouring myself the reddish liquid and placing the lid back on the pot, "that you live with your head in the clouds, but write so well about reality."

"Perhaps I _don't _live with my head in the clouds?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Or _maybe,_" I considered, ignoring him, "you let those things you write about into your own private world. Is that it?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I don't think about that stuff." He took a tentative bite (or sip?) of the soup and grimaced. "Don't eat the rice."

"Got it," I confirmed, dipping my spoon in the bowl and scooping out a fair amount. "Not cooked?"

"Not exactly," he said, reaching over and spitting grains of rice in the sink. I giggled.

Bloody hell, I just _giggled._

Rose must be rubbing off on me.

I put the spoon in my mouth and immediately clenched my eyes. "This is disgusting."

"Too much salt."

"Let's get rid of it," I proposed, not waiting for his approval before taking out my wand and silently Vanishing it. "I don't know _how _my mom learned how to cook, I never did."

He grinned weakly at me. "I'm starving."

"Italian?"

"As long as they have chocolate, I'm happy," he said cheerfully, dropping off the counter. I laughed before he turned to me, blocking the way out of the kitchen, eyes suddenly full of concern. "Are you _sure _you don't want to talk about the ministry? The meeting is a couple of days…"

I shook my head quickly. "No, I don't." I don't want to _think _about it, let alone talk.

"But –"

"We're ready," I said, trying to dodge around him, but he caught me by the side of my arms. I shrugged him off. "The law says they can't force Veritaserum on us, and we've got our story. Speaking of which, how did you not know a law your _dad _passed?"

His eyes narrowed, making my stomach drop. "You're changing the subject."

I ignored his accurate perception. "Your _dad _passed a law and you didn't –"

"My dad passed tons of laws, I can't know them all. _Stop_," he insisted, holding my arms more tightly this time when I attempted to duck around him. I tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't let go.

Damn him and his testosterone-powered strength! Where's my wand?

His hands were too tight around me to move my arms, so I kicked him as he spoke. "You're just not thinking about – _ow – _it and you'll regret it if we're suddenly not prepared – _ow _– and then something really bad will happen and – _will you stop already?_" I sighed and went limp, looking in his eyes.

"Let go of my arms."

"But we have to –" he was suddenly cut off with my knee to his groin. He fell backwards, hitting the floor with a _thud._

"I told you to let go of me," I said crossly, rubbing my arms.

He moaned in pain. "Bloody _Slytherin._"

"I guess I made it in for a reason?" I teased, smirking and stepping out of the kitchen, crouching down beside him. "Sorry."

"You owe me _so much chocolate right now…_" he got out, his knuckles whitening in fists as he sat up. I laughed. I seemed to have been doing that a lot lately.

Maybe I do trust Al.

Just as the thought formed in my mind, he flicked my forehead before slowly standing and heading towards the front door. I rubbed my face and stuck my tongue out at him.

Okay, I _sort of _trust him.

It's a start, right?


	12. Emily: The Ridicule

**Chapter Twelve: Emily: The Ridicule**

"Emily, you're squeezing my hand off." I loosened my grip and took a deep breath. We had just gotten to the ministry right after work. The place was crowded; large crowds of people bustled around, some looking frantic (I assumed these people were part of the Death Eater craze) and some looked… _normal_. They were working. This was average for them.

How can everyone just be so casual about all these deaths happening _right inside the ministry_?

It's strange to think that people can keep going as everything goes around them. Is this what war was like for our parents? Is this how it felt, to be the midst of everything but hiding inside a castle, away from it all?

… okay, I might just be a _tad _bit nervous. And over-thinking things. And you know why?

THEY. TOOK. OUR. WANDS.

Even Al's. Apparently whoever is associated with me is a threat, while I _myself_ have never been a Death Eater, and my dad is a _healer _for Merlin's sake! VOLDEMORT IS NOT COMING BACK!

Bloody hell, I hate the ministry.

"It's fine, just… _calm down,_" Al told me after I apologized, settling for sliding an arm around my waist instead of holding my hand in a death grip. "It'll be okay."

"You were right," I whispered, looking around the dark hallways of the ministry as an attempt to stop myself from smacking his arm away. I tried desperately to remind myself that we needed to show some affection, so we looked like we were in love. "We should've talked about it more, I shouldn't have avoided the topic like the plague for the last few days, we're not ready –"

"What the _hell_?"

Al cut me off abruptly, narrowing his eyes at a boy around our age. I turned to see his back to us, pushing his way through the crowd. I raised my eyebrows at Al.

"What?"

"He – he just gave us the finger and kept going!" he said in disbelief, his arm tightening around my waist. "What the hell? I don't even know this guy!"

I snorted. "You actually care?"

"But…" His face was bewildered, completely ignoring the passing people shoving past us. "Do _you _know him?"

"No."

"Then why would you be okay with some random person –"

"Al," I said soothingly, wondering how we had suddenly traded expressions. "You _do _know that someone would do that every day at Hogwarts, right?"

It was beyond shock. "_What_?"

"The ministry," I told him, wiggling a little so he would loosen his grip, "is incredibly convincing. You realize that, right?"

"Yeah, but –"

"Half of the school hates purebloods and Slytherins now," I interrupted, "and it's because the ministry told them that we'll kill you all, and that we're disgusting creatures that don't deserve to live."

His eyebrows were high on his forehead. "I didn't know that."

"That's why I said you live with your head in the clouds," I teased, nudging his side so we could start moving again. He began to protest when I heard a voice that made me stop in my tracks again.

"Emily, Emily, Emily."

Shit_._

I know that voice.

My former best friend, Amy Gabel, sauntered up to us, her permanent expression hidden by… _appealing _features. At least, they were appealing to most; I saw through that pretty, seemingly innocent face of hers.

Though I have to admit, she fooled me once.

Al, surprisingly enough, wasn't deceived; perceptive as ever, he seemed to recognize her as the leader of my old group of friends and unconsciously pulled me closer as she reached us. I resisted the urge to stomp on his foot by gritting my teeth.

"Here for your hearing?" she asked with fake sweetness. I nodded stiffly.

"You?"

"Just cleared," she said carelessly, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Took Veritaserum, I'm only being tracked now." Her sharp gaze set on Al, blue eyes narrowing at him. "Potter."

"Gabel," he grunted.

"Didn't know you two were… _together,_" she emphasized, looking at his arm around me. I cleared my throat.

"Married." Her eyes narrowed, but only for a moment before they travelled to our rings.

"You never dated."

"Perhaps it was in secret, so you couldn't intervene," I said loftily.

She crossed her arms. "You deserved that. You betrayed us."

"'Betrayed'? That's rather dramatic –"

"David never loved you, anyway," she shot, her words piercing in my chest. "He was glad to help us out."

"You were just jealous," I spat back, trying not to look hurt. "For once, I had the attention of someone who didn't worship you, and you couldn't stand it."

"It's not like you were ever better!" she protested. Her blue eyes flared as she went on. "You used us all."

"I _never_–"

"We let you in," she continued, unfazed, "and you betrayed us."

I rolled my eyes. "Just because I didn't let you use me to get to Scorpius, it doesn't mean I _betrayed _you –"

"You _knew _how I felt about David when he asked you out," she cut across.

"No, I didn't."

"He never loved you," she repeated, eyes blazing. "He used you." I kept silent, not knowing what to say; it was true, after all.

"And you know what?" she continued, her rage surfacing. "You never fit in. You never wanted to sneak out with us. You hate drinking. And look at what you're wearing," she added, taunting my work clothes. "You dress like a boy."

"I don't dress like a whore." My hands were shaking. "I never realized I had befriended one."

She let out a hollow laugh. "David would disagree."

"I don't love David anymore," I said as calmly as I could. "It's been two years, Amy."

She was sneering. "You just can't accept the fact that I won –"

"You're pathetic," I told her, my voice firm. "You made sure I was without friends before cornering me. You stole the only person who tolerated me. You wanted to attack me while my back was turned, and I was _alone._" I shifted against Al, who was frozen, before pronouncing the words clearly. "You're a coward." Amy blinked, her hand twitching towards her wand she had just received – but she couldn't attack me.

She was being tracked. They were watching her every move.

Instead, her eyes travelled towards Al, who looked like he would rather not be here at all. I noticed that his arm around me had become unbearably tight when she turned on him.

"You're married a madwoman," she spat maliciously. He looked her straight in the eyes, and she faltered.

"You lost her."

His voice was soft but filled with dismissal; somehow, he had found exactly the right thing to say to end the argument. Something in her expression broke in the moment before she turned and strode away. I took a deep breath.

Amy was not a bad person, but controlled by her emotions, cowering under the expectations thrust upon her. She liked power and attention. It's hard not to search through the past, but in the end, there's nothing I can do. I doubt we'd ever be good friends again.

"Remind me to never get in an argument with you," Al said shakily, trying to laugh. I gave a weak smile and slid my other around him, properly giving him a hug for the first time.

This is strange. I don't understand why Al hugged me every time I look stressed.

Somehow, though, I think he needed it more than I did.

"Thanks, Al," I said sincerely, giving him a squeeze before letting go. "I don't think she wouldn't stopped for a while if you hadn't…" He shrugged.

"She's not _my _former friend. I'm not afraid of her."

"I'm not afraid," I protested weakly, looking in his eyes. "Amy's a miniscule thought in my mind. Practically doesn't exist."

This has been my worst attempt at lying in my entire life.

Come to think of it, I've never lied to Al.

"What happened between you guys?" he asked. I took his hand again and pulled him, walking further into the building towards the courtrooms.

"I'd rather not say," I said quietly. I never wanted to talk about it again. Surprisingly, he seemed to understand, but his curiosity was still burning in his eyes. He pulled me back, his hand sweaty.

Or was that mine?

"When's our meeting?"

I checked my watch; we had arrived an hour early, feeling too agitated to sit at home and wait. "In around an hour. I think –" I cut off by the sight of a large man waving at us. I instantly grinned.

"Dad!" I ran to hug him. He laughed happily along with my mother, who came up behind him and held out her arms.

"How are you doing, Emily?" she asked as I went to hug her. "You've been scarce; come over for dinner sometime."

"Alright," I said cheerfully, kissing her on the cheek. I didn't realize how much I missed my parents until right then.

"You ready for this meeting, Em?" my father asked, suddenly looking concerned. I glanced at Al, who was accepting a hug from my mum.

"I guess."

"We'll be fine," Al said confidently, holding his hand out to my dad, smiling as they shook. I could tell he was lying; he couldn't possibly know the end result. If possible, he was even more nervous than me. "We've got nothing to hide."

_I wish, _I thought bitterly as my parents led me towards the courtrooms.

I mean, that would be nice, wouldn't it?

* * *

"Another marriage case, then?" the minister asked, his voice echoing in the courtroom. After my parents had led us to the courtroom, Mr. Birch had hauled us into it and forced us in two wooden chairs and chained us to them.

Only joking. He would've _liked _to; I can see it written all over his face.

The chairs are quite uncomfortable nonetheless.

Dear Merlin, I'm joking about a serious situation. Al's rubbing off on me!

Said boy pulled out a copy of our marriage license and handed it to him, not even cowering under the minister's cold eyes that sent shivers down my spine – but he only had eyes for Al.

"Albus Potter?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Al nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Your father has been on my back for the past few years," he acknowledged, snapping his fingers at a trembling House Elf with a tray. He slipped the license into a thin folder before giving me a scathing glare. "Tea?"

"No, thank you," I declined immediately, shooting a look at Al. Why didn't Mr. Birch mention the Veritaserum in the tea?

Dear Merlin, he was trying to trick us.

I'm not sure if this was a good or a bad sign.

He looked surprised at my answer. "You're refusing the Veritaserum?"

Oh, _now _he mentions it.

He looked dumbstruck at our nods, searching through his notes and nodding at the House Elf, which disappeared. "We'll need a way to prove your marriage is genuine. Most in this case took Veritaserum."

"Most?"

"All," he answered, speaking much more politely to Al. I narrowed my eyes. "So, far, at least. Meetings are alphabetical, and 'Goyle' is much higher up. We haven't seen many couples," he added.

"What sort of things do we need to prove…?" I asked, trailing off at the end. The minister didn't look at me as he spoke without filling his glare with malevolence; his voice was considerable colder towards me than Al.

The ministry is full of cowards.

"I need to speak to the Heads of Departments," he told us, straightening his paper as he stood. "Wait here." As soon as the door locked shut, leaving us alone in the empty room, we stood from the chairs and turned to each other.

"Holly didn't tell," we blurted out together.

"_Why_?" Al mused, taking his hand out mine to run it through his hair. "She wanted to split us up…"

"But…" My mind was reeling, trying to think like Holly Birch. "… she wants something."

"What?"

"She's going to blackmail us," I realized, beginning to pace. "Telling the minister doesn't ensure she gets you. I reckon she'll blackmail us into meeting her demands, and in turn, the minister won't kill my family."

Al's jaw dropped. "That's evil."

I shrugged. "I've seen worse, believe it or not. Knowing her, she'll –"

"Listen to every word you say?" I closed my eyes.

I can't believe she caught our conversation _again._

We suck at being discreet.

Al didn't bother hiding his groan as he heard her voice. Holly Birch rose from her sitting position, neatly hidden behind the minister's podium. Her heels clacked noisily as she walked up to us.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded angrily. She seemed to be pleased he was giving her a bit of attention.

Just how pathetic is she?

"I've been sitting through all the meetings, taking notes," she declared, gesturing to her notebook with her hand. "I plan to be in my father's place one day." I shuddered.

Holly Birch, stalker-bitch of Hogwarts, taking over the government.

She'd probably make it a rule for people to straighten their hair before going outside.

"So am I right?" I asked tiredly, trying not to laugh at Al's dramatic eye-twitching. "Why you didn't rat us out?"

"Spot on," she said casually, grinning. "You were practically in my mind there –"

"Shut up," I snapped. I did not want to be compared to her in any sense. "Tell us what you want to keep your mouth shut." Al shook his head frantically, and I narrowed my eyes.

What's _his _problem?

"Date me again and her family is safe," Holly told Al, addressing him properly. "Just like fifth year."

Oh. _That's _his problem.

Al looked like he was going to be positively sick. "No!"

"Al, you should do it." I didn't want to say the words, but what choice did I have? I looked him in the eyes. "Please."

I saw stubbornness for the first time, fading slightly when he looked at me. "You really want me to do this?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. I nodded.

"Please."

"Well…" He spoke to Holly, whose spirits were rising steadily. "No."

She did a double-take. "_No_?"

"I can't do it." His voice was firm, but I could hear the faint pleading under the surface. He was apologizing as he refused.

"Why not?" I asked rather desperately. It was a little embarrassing, but if Al didn't agree… well, who knows what could happen.

"I just can't, Emily. Not again."

Holly's lips turned to a sneer at his words and before we could bargain with her, she whipped around, apparating on the spot. We couldn't even attempt to get out of the room, because they took our wands.

We were stuck.

And Holly was running to the minister.

Holy _shit._

"Al, _why_?" I shouted, feeling my desperation mix with anger. "Why didn't you just –"

"You don't know what it's like," he explained, his voice infuriatingly calm. "She took over my _life_in fifth year, she'd force me to quit my job and I can't live with that –"

"And maybe I just won't live at all!" My voice was reaching hysteria. "Is that what you want?"

He paled. "No, I'd never –"

"I'm sure." I felt jittery. "We're stuck here, the minister is going to listen to his precious daughter's demands, we can't obliviate the girl because we don't have our wands and –"

"We'll be _fine._" Something in his voice made me look at him – and _really_ look at him. He was shaking and trying to smile, looking like this was the first time he ever experienced something like this. I _was _right. He was used to suppressing it. His optimism was proof of that.

He was used to suppressing fear.

He was in shock.

Before either of us could speak, the door opened. The house elf that had disappeared earlier was back. "Would Mr. and Mrs. Potter please come with me?"

* * *

We followed the elf down endless corridors and through multiple elevators to Mr. Birch's office. The minister's office was always extravagant and luxurious; a reward for the years of determination and hard work. It was, in some cases, a sanctuary.

In my case, it was where I received the worst news of my life – or up to this point, anyway.

They can't do this.

Al and I may be eons away from being in love, but the marriage is _real._ I should know. I went through two weeks of painful wedding planning. I spent the day in that frilly, white dress. I said the vows. I – okay, so I didn't kiss him. _We're still married._

So they can't _do _this!

Mr. Birch looked impatient as he glanced between me, my parents and Al. We were sitting in plush chairs in front of his large, wooden desk, jittery from the moment we entered the room – or in my case, long before that.

This is absolutely awful. _Why _did I have to ignore my nerves? I spent all week pushing them aside so I could act normal at home and relax, trying to trust Rose and Al. I tried my best, I really did – but in doing so, I pretended this situation didn't exist. I should've just caved. I should've just prepared for this meeting; if I did, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

"Until we have a substitute for Veritaserum, we have to arrest your father."

The room seemed to spin around me, and I grasped for Al's hand.

_They can't do this._

My father. In Azkaban.

Surrounded by Dementors, hovering, sucking the happiness and _life _out of him.

The life he had worked so hard for.

"Wait," I said weakly, finding myself unable to tear my eyes away from the minister's cold orbs. "He's innocent, we're innocent, _please –"_

"This is a necessary precaution, Mrs. Potter," he told me, and I momentarily failed to recall he was speaking to _me._"All suspects have been arrested, some –"

"Murdered," Al interrupted quietly, almost to himself. His eyes were fixated on the floor, face expressionless, passive. As always.

Mr. Birch swallowed, looking at Al as he spoke. "Not murdered, Mr. Potter. The precautions were necessary, as to protect beings of our kind –"

"We're no different," he whispered to me. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

"How long?" my mother asked.

"As long as necessary," the minister replied smoothly, and I wanted to punch him in the face and scream for using that _word._

'Necessary.'

_None of this is necessary._

I swallowed a lump in my throat and opened my eyes. "With all due respect, Holly might have been speaking out of jealousy. Surely you noticed her obsession –"

"– with Mr. Potter here?" he asked wearily, rubbing his temples. I guess it had been a long day for his side, too. "I am aware."

"Then –"

"Try to understand," he said, cutting across me roughly. "Marriages are highly unusual at such a young age, and you are not the first case. You _are_, however, the first marriage case that has refused to take Veritaserum."

"But –"

"Let me emphasize that imprisonment is not the first punishment for deceit." I shut my mouth, fear striking through my body.

They could've killed my father.

Al's hand was squeezing mine tightly as I tried not to break down in front of the minister of magic. I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of seeing me in so much distress. I wondered if it was what he wanted. Did he really want to torture us?

I was refusing to do so up until then, but I looked in my father's eyes. Something in him was struck with fear, and I could only imagine how much the Mark on his left arm was killing him. But I also saw determination and bravery; he was prepared.

He was prepared to sacrifice himself for his family.

_Why?_

This wasn't how I pictured this. He should stay safe at home and be allowed to go to work and continue his normal life. I was the one who was marrying a boy I barely knew. I was the one living in a tiny house without air conditioning with my best friend and his wife and my husband.

I'm going to save my family. Not him.

Was there chance of winning against subjective ideas?

"Mr. Goyle will receive a trial, but based on the Mark on his arm, I would not count on it. Besides," Mr. Birch finished, stacking his papers on his desk and straightening them, "This will keep your actions in line – perhaps discourage your participation in the upcoming war."

_There is no upcoming war._

Why can't he understand that?

The man stood, his bald head glinting as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand to my father, and then to Al. I noticed Al's eyes never met Mr. Birch's. What was I thinking, dragging Albus into something like this?

And my _mum._

My eyes snapped to her; she was trembling and white, tears silently running down her face as my father held her. If it was hard for me, I couldn't imagine how hard it was for my mum. She'd be the one alone.

I collapsed into my dad as he hugged me, shaking as though I was sobbing but not letting the moisture escape from my eyes. He was leaving. He was going to Azkaban.

They can't do this.

But they are.

"Don't give up." My dad's whispered encouragement reached my ears. I nodded.

I watched as officials came into the office led my parents away, seeing Mr. Birch hold the door open for them. They were leaving. They were actually going to hold a trial for my father which he will _lose. _There was no reason to suggest the opposite. I couldn't help but think there was no point in holding the hope I kept in me, but my dad told me not to give up.

I couldn't watch his trial. I couldn't watch him lose.

"Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," the minister called as Al and I exited the office. As soon as we turned the corner, I turned and collapsed on the wall.

Al looked alarmed. "Emily –"

"I'm fine," I told him, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. "Just… give me a minute."

He looked at a loss as he leaned on the wall beside me, running a hand through his hair. "I never _knew_…"

"You live in your own world, Al," I said heavily. "I've gotten used to the ridicule. Didn't you see how the minister treated me compared to you?"

"I didn't."

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ease my nerves. "Why didn't you just date Holly?" Instead of answering, he took my hand.

"Let's go home, it's late." I nodded, checking my watch. Al had to drag me up to the front desk to receive our wands; I was in a trance. The crowd was whizzing by, and Al was a lifeline, and when I found myself twisted into the darkness, stuck in the tube-like sensation, falling, spinning… I let myself fall.

I could feel Al's hand tightly grasp mine as we apparated into our house. It had never felt more like a house than a home at that moment, trying to comfort myself as we made our way to bed. I was vaguely aware that Al still hadn't let go of my hand.

He was shaking.

* * *

I sat up in the dark, frustrated and exhausted.

I can't sleep.

I've tried counting sheep, drinking warm milk, taking a walk, reading a book, lying in bed with my eyes shut… I could go on, but I won't.

I _really _cannot sleep.

I think it's because my brain won't shut off. I want to know how my dad is doing. I want to know if he's been imprisoned yet. I want to know if the Ministry might let him off if he puts up a good fight.

I want to see him.

But I know I can't.

That could completely ruin the plan. The Minister is already angry with me, suspected with deceit, and if I put up a fight… it would have all been for nothing. All the planning, the wedding, the money spent, all the lies…

I suppose I should feel lucky. They could've killed him, like some other Death Eaters they've found.

I looked over at Al, asleep. It was times like these that I felt more envious than usual; he already had a perfect life. He wasn't in any danger of being taken away at any second; his father was at home, sound asleep; he didn't even have to _care _what happened to me.

Honestly, if I die at the end of this, I'll just be a burden off his back.

Rose and Scorpius, though… if my father is imprisoned, there's no telling what's going to happen to Mr. Malfoy. He made three attempts to kill Albus Dumbledore, and even though Rose and Scorpius are _actually _in love, Scorpius may have the same fate as me.

And that really isn't fair to Rose.

The worst part of it all was that _I haven't done anything._ Sure; I played some nasty tricks at school, but that was all childish fun. I wasn't the one who killed all those people. I couldn't even imagine killing _one _person.

I wiped the foolish tears from my eyes, feeling embarrassed. Why was I crying? I only cried in shock, or feeling overwhelmed; that was something I discovered a few weeks ago, when all of this began. I was stunned – something I have never been used to. I was tough. I've always been.

What's wrong with me?

I felt stirring beside me and quickly lay back down, turning my back to Al and pretending to sleep. I couldn't stop the tears from slipping down my nose, however, and unfortunately, he took that moment to peer at my face.

"Are you crying in your sleep?" he whispered, probably more to himself than me. I nearly snorted at his perception and sat up slowly, wiping my face.

"Sorry," I whispered back, sniffing a little. "I'll stop."

But I _couldn't_ stop. That how my crying was: red eyes, running nose and the inability to _stop _once I've started. I was going to continue until I ran out of tears – until I couldn't breathe anymore.

And the most ironic part was that after only a few weeks of knowing me, Al was perfectly aware of that.

He could see right through my façade.

"Emily." He closed his eyes, almost as if he were arguing with himself. "Don't apologize."

I took another swipe at my endless tears. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"You're obviously not, if you're crying." He paused, opening his eyes slowly and carefully choosing his words. "You don't cry often."

I didn't answer, but continued to fight the tears slipping down my cheeks. I never gave up without a fight – it was probably why I cried for so long. I didn't let it go.

"Is…" He ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, still guessing his way through the situation. I felt bad for him, being awake while I was in such a messy state. "Is it your father? Are you scared?"

Yes. Yes I was.

I was more terrified than I've ever been in my entire life.

A fresh wave of tears engulfed me, and I rocked in place, shuddering and _sobbing._ I was still fighting them off, but they were winning; I was _afraid, _frustrated, confused and _vulnerable_. Most of all, I felt so, _so _alone.

All-too suddenly, a pair of arms held me around my sides, pushing me in Al's chest, as if he had reacted on impulse. I felt a rush of familiarity as he pulled the covers off me and held me – too close for comfort – just like before our wedding.

And just like that time, I felt inexpressibly safe.

Just like that.

"Don't cry," he whispered in my ear, practically pulling me onto his lap. "Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry," I apologized, even though he told me not to. "I just –" I broke into another set of sobs, and gripped so tightly to him, I thought everything inside me would explode. Because my heart was aching in my chest, so hard I felt it crumbling with every breath I took. It was physical pain, and every time I sobbed, I broke a little more.

He stroked my hair, and though he didn't show it, he was trying desperately to soothe me. I didn't understand why; he could have just as easily sat a few feet away from me and waited for me to cry it all out, just like the last time. He didn't have to do any of this.

But there he was, rocking me back and forth and whispering into my ear that blind _optimism _I'd come to hate, and it was the thing that was helping me the most. It almost seemed as if he didn't want to see my cry at all, almost as if he wanted me to stop because it was hurting _him, _seeing our hope torn to shreds.

Almost.

I felt myself hiccuping, trying to stop the flow of tears that were soaking Al's t-shirt. He looked into my eyes for the first time, and I was stunned. _Overwhelmed. _I stared into their green depths, gazing and analyzing, unable to wrap my head around the emotion I saw.

"Don't do that."

I furrowed my eyebrows, surprised. "Do what?"

"Try and stop crying." I didn't dare break eye contact with him, in case I missed something. It's how I knew what he was really feeling. I could blink and miss everything.

"You told me not to cry," I replied softly, hiccuping a little more.

"You're trying to keep it all in, Emily," he said, his expression more than a little strained. "Please don't do that."

"Why not?" I asked, tears beginning to leak again. "I shouldn't be crying. This is happening to my father, not to me; I'm not sitting in a stingy prison cell with Dementors swarming around me, letting every happy thought escape from my mind."

In fact, it was quite the opposite for me.

"Al, he could lose his mind in there," I whispered fearfully, closing my eyes and feeling the hot liquid sting my skin as it rolled down, slowly and painfully. "What if he forgets me?"

"He won't."

"You can't _know,_" I said with finality, not wanting to have this argument again. "Don't sugar coat things, Al."

He broke our eye contact, resting his cheek on the top of my head. "Don't cry, Emily."

"Touché." He let out a small, sad chuckle.

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you upset?"

He was silent, listening – as if he could hear the answer. The _right _answer.

Was there one?

"Because you really shouldn't be," I continued. "This is my problem, not yours."

He didn't answer. I had the impression he didn't know what to say.

Or perhaps he was afraid of saying it.

I settled back into his chest. "In any case, thank you."

And before falling asleep, I finally felt something different. I didn't feel much better – my dad was still in Azkaban. I felt like I had run a race, being so exhausted from crying all those tears. My nose was stuffed, my head felt heavy and aching.

But I didn't feel alone anymore. For some, inexplicable reason, Albus Potter didn't allow me to feel so; for once, he hadn't iced over his heart. He let himself feel pain, and the strangest part was that it wasn't even his own.

It was mine.


	13. Albus: The Sappiness

**Chapter Thirteen: Albus: The Sappiness**

It's a well-known fact that wedding rehearsals are beyond frustrating, and Rose and Malfoy's wedding? No different. I mean, they'd been planning for about two weeks now, plus their wedding was going to look a _lot_ like mine and Emily's. I kept wondering why _they'd _want to marry so early – but then again, Emily and I never had to explain our reason. No one ever asked.

Hmm.

But it doesn't change the fact that they're frustrating. I think our rehearsal wasn't so bad because Emily and I weren't so picky about everything being perfect – but Rose? She's a perfectionist. She wanted everything _'flawless.'_

Maybe she would've gotten _'flawless' _if she didn't marry a prick like Malfoy.

But he's not so bad anymore.

Don't get me wrong; he still despises me with every fibre of his being. He still refuses to directly speak to me without answering in short sentences. The fact of the matter is that he's not taking his anger out on Rose or Emily.

I can deal with a bit of awkwardness, right?

But what I _cannot _deal with is frustration – and I'm going insane. I mean, here I am, dressed in this stupid tux again, sweating, sitting in the church with a bunch of my relatives and Malfoy's relatives, listening to Rose and Malfoy argue about something stupid like their vows, and all I can think about is how I have to stop looking at Emily.

I like her.

I don't understand why.

And it is _frustrating._

Usually the girls I like show more cleavage and leg than is strictly allowed, and they practically throw themselves at me. Emily does neither (unfortunately), and I'm not quite sure why I like her.

I still feel as if I don't really know her. These last couple of weeks we've been married, I could tell she's been trying to make it work. It's not just me who's trying to trust someone I don't know; she's really lightened up around me, and I have Rose to thank for that.

But she's got _baggage. _Even if it's slightly hypocritical, I'm usually not attracted to girls like that. She's got some strange issues involving her ex-friends and ex-boyfriend – and I know how it feels. She deals with it really well.

She's one of the strongest people I've ever seen. I don't think crying is a sign of weakness, as she does, but I have to admit: she cried _once._We got an owl the next morning that Mr. Goyle had lost his trial, and she didn't even blink. It was impressive.

But her shell is back.

It's that thing she wears every time something goes wrong, I suppose. Probably trying to protect herself. Unfortunately for me, I'd already seen her lighten up around me, and she's… well. I like who she is.

Even right now, she can't stop worrying about everything. As we're sitting in the church, Emily came to sit beside me a few minutes ago, watching Rose and Malfoy argue away – but she's not listening to them. Her mind is miles away, and she's twisting her hair like she always does when she's nervous.

Before the meeting, when she tried so hard to let herself relax, she was sarcastic and witty. I always found myself laughing around her when she got moody, because it's just so damn funny how seriously she can take things. Then her mouth kind of twitched a little when she tried to stop herself from laughing. Somehow, _inexplicably,_we'd become friends in the past couple of weeks.

I'm truly going insane with all this frustration. Those strange glimpses of who she was? Gone. I've truly seen who she is.

And Merlin, she's _feisty. _

Sort of.

Either way, it's pretty hot.

I kind of miss her.

It's different from before. Instead of treating me coldly, she's just gotten… _quiet. _Sarcastic is better than quiet. Angry is better than quiet. Crying is better than quiet. Quiet means she's hurting, and that's… well, not very good.

And when she was crying that night, I gave in and just held her like I had done countless times for my sister and cousins – but it was different. Usually it was a feeling like o_kay-I'm-holding-you-so-quit-crying._ This time, it was more like _shit-I-am-so-screwed-I-think-I-might-actually-care._

And then _shit-I-like-her-I-AM-SO-SCREWED._

How the hell did this happen?

Okay, so I like her. She's really pretty, despite not having her boobs shoved halfway up to her face, she's bloody hilarious and I love bugging her. It's not like I'm in love with her or anything, so getting over her should be a breeze.

I hope.

I _have _to get over her. She doesn't feel the same, and things will just be weird.

And awkward.

I _hate _awkwardness.

But I'm Albus Potter. I will stay calm. I will not stare at Emily in her bridesmaid's dress (Rose thought it would be nice). I will not strangle Rose and Malfoy for fighting over whatever they're – _are they fighting over flowers?_!

Merlin, where's my bloody chocolate?

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

I held up my hands, trying to ignore Malfoy's death glare headed in my direction by grinning at him. "I come in peace, I swear."

"Potter…"

I let my hands fall. "Emily wants to come in, so she told me to make sure you're wearing clothes." He nodded and finished buttoning his shirt as I looked around; it was the same room that my parents stuck me in at my wedding before I wandered off; plain, a number of couches lining the walls and a mirror in one corner.

Emily's knock startled me back into reality. "Can I come in, now?"

"Yeah," Scorpius called as I flopped down onto one of the brown couches.

"Ready, Scorp?" Emily asked, sitting beside me. It was kind of amusing how Malfoy's entire demeanour changed as he was speaking to Emily or Rose; his previous annoyance instantly faded.

I should be offended, shouldn't I?

Eh, who cares.

"Emily, I think…" I tuned him out as he began to speak to his best friend and sitting on the other side of her. Instead, I found myself not-so-discreetly staring at Emily again.

Dammit, I have to stop doing that.

I don't know why I never noticed her at Hogwarts. She was always just _there;_usually sitting with Scorpius (less so when he started dating Rose) or the Quidditch team or alone. She used to be part of a group of girls, but something happened (I'm beginning to piece it together, but Emily won't talk about it), so she stopped sitting with them in the middle of sixth year. I knew Malfoy – why didn't I ever meet his best friend?

Either way, I don't think I would've seen her in this way. Not before now.

_Why do I like her?_

I'm pretty sure it wasn't sudden. It's definitely unlike the typical crush; there's none of this rapid heartbeat (okay, only in her pajamas. I'm a guy, what can I say?) or weird feeling in my gut (a lot of squirming, but what does that have to do with it?) or… I dunno, _sweating._

But we've still got this drought going on, so I can't be entirely sure.

I sound like a bloody female when I start thinking about these things.

Make that _over-_thinking.

Shit.

I'm over-thinking.

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?

"Scorpius, you're being unreasonable!"

"It's not unreasonable, I just don't think –"

"You can't _cancel your wedding_!"

... WHAT?

Is Scorpius Malfoy trying to cancel his wedding after he proposed in the _library_ and after they live in the same _house _with my cousin who's in love with him and would be heartbroken?

If I don't kill him, Rose certainly will.

"This was stupid," Scorpius decided loudly, putting his head in his hands. "I'm an idiot. What was I thinking? Em, why didn't you stop me?"

"This isn't _my _fault, Scorpius –"

"You're cancelling your wedding?" I finally demanded over Emily's protests. "Why the hell would you do that?"

Scorpius didn't bother to look at me; he kept his head buried in his hands. "I can't do it, Potter, we're too young! We don't have enough money to own a house, let alone support each other in a marriage, and I know I proposed but I was being stupid –"

"Rose doesn't think you guys are ready either, did you know that?" I asked scathingly, standing and narrowing my eyes at him. "She thinks you're mental for doing this."

He finally looked up, looking pale and hopeful. "You mean she'd be okay with cancelling?"

"_No._" I felt like punching him, like he had done to me a few weeks ago. "She's not ready and she knows that, but she wants to do it anyway. She _still _wants to marry you."

Only Merlin knows why.

"Because she loves you," Emily put in quietly, effectively fading most of my anger.

Oh, hello Merlin!

…can you pretend I didn't say that, so I don't have to prove I'm not attracted to any higher being? Thanks.

Some of the colour reappeared in Malfoy's cheeks, and he tried not to smile. "I know."

"So," I said loudly, stepping closer and shoving him backwards and into the couch. "You're marrying my cousin today and never breaking her heart, or I'll kill you. Understand?"

Scorpius nodded and genuinely grinned at me for the first time. "Maybe you're not so bad, Potter." I groaned.

Bloody hell, _now _he gets it – just when I threaten his life. Why he couldn't he understand that a few weeks ago, when he punched me?

Bloody Slytherin.

* * *

The service was disgustingly beautiful. The speeches were beyond sappy. Their first dance was way overemphasized. The line to the bar was exceedingly long. I was content on never dancing again. The cake was vanilla.

All in all, it was another bloody wedding.

I hate these things.

But fortunately, no one was really paying attention to my sulkiness anyway; the focus was for Rose and Malfoy, who, I had to grudgingly admit, were good for each other. Honestly, I'm fine with their marriage as long as Malfoy never hurts Rose in any shape or form.

Seriously – not even a paper cut or something. That kid is going _down._

Unfortunately, however, the person who had to endure my mood was the only one I actually cared what she thought – so I tried to keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

I was failing miserably.

"The cake… is… _vanilla_," I moaned to myself, moodily stabbing it with a fork. Nearly everyone was on the dance floor or at the bar except for Emily, who had chosen to remain at the table with me. She had been quiet all day.

You know, I kind of preferred it when she half-hated me; at least then I could focus on arguing with her rather than what she's wearing.

I internally sighed to myself, knowing I was going to regret it. "Emily," I began in a resigned tone, putting down the fork and shoving my plate away so I could look at her properly. "What's going on?"

She shrugged, mimicking me and putting her arm on the table, holding her head up with her hand. "Can I –" She looked in my eyes for the first time, and my stomach dropped.

She looked miserable.

I've been staring at her all day, but I hadn't realized that.

I really _do _live in my own world.

I rested my arm on the table and my head in my hands as well. We had blocked out the rest of the party. "Can you what?"

She bit her lip. "Can I talk to you? Normally I'd talk to Scorpius, but I'd never ruin his wedding," she said, glancing over to him and smiling. "He looks so happy."

I laughed. "Of course you can talk to me." Her eyes went down to the white tablecloth in between us, thinking before she spoke.

"I feel as if our plan has gone all wrong," she began. "My dad wasn't supposed to end up in prison. The minister was supposed to believe us."

"It's not as if he gave us a chance to explain."

"It wasn't supposed to happen, though!" I saw the lines of her face crease into the frustration I had been feeling ever since the meeting, and I was instantly flooded with comprehension. "He shouldn't have gone to prison, I should have prevented it. It's all my fault."

I shook my head. "You didn't start this, Voldemort did –"

"I'm so sorry, Albus." My eyes snapped to hers, which were still set downwards.

"For _what_?"

"Everything. I just – I feel so guilty, Al," she confessed, turning and putting both arms on the table, burying her face in her arms. "I dragged you into this, and I shouldn't have. I know more than getting caught in a crime you didn't commit isn't even the slightest bit fair."

"Hold on –"

"You have no idea how much gratitude I have for you," she said, her voice echoing slightly in her arms. I inched closer to her to try and peer at her face.

"Don't thank me," I told her, feeling slightly stupid as I said it. Technically, she hadn't thanked me at all. "I offered to do it, even if I didn't know what I was getting into. Even if I _did _know, I still would've done it."

"Because of your hero's complex?"

I chuckled. "Sure." It wasn't about Holly anymore.

That plan was more of an epic failure.

Emily lifted her head, and I was impressed that she still wasn't crying. She held her head up with her hand, elbow resting against the table. "You know, I'm really envious of you."

"They say Slytherin's colour is green, anyway."

"Not that," she told me, rolling her eyes. "It's Rose and Scorpius, too. You've all had peaceful lives, in a sense. You have lots of chances."

"So do you." She laughed softly, and when my eyes met hers, I saw fear that sent a shiver down my back.

"Al, I think I'm going to die at the end of this."

I swallowed. How could she say it so casually, as if it didn't scare her in the slightest, as if it didn't make my insides freeze – as if she thought I didn't actually care?

Bloody hell, I'm going to make sure she's not going to die.

"Don't say that."

"I'm trying to accept it," she said honestly, and I fought the urge to shake her. "You guys are going to have your whole lives ahead of you. You'll get married again. You'll be an amazing journalist. You'll be happy."

"Emily, you –"

"You know what I've always wanted?" she interrupted, a slightly dreamy look overtaking her face. "A marriage like my parents."

I noticed my hand was digging into my scalp, but I could care less. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. My parents are so in love, and it's beautiful. My mum," she added, smiling to herself, "practically changed my dad's life. He was practically a fat idiot before her."

"I don't think he lost the fat," I said honestly, and she laughed.

"He gives the best hugs, that's for sure."

"They can't compare to mine, Em."

She rolled her eyes. "My dad was completely infatuated with my mum when he first met her. He came back to Hogwarts and repeated his seventh year, so he could pass his NEWTs. My mum was the year below, but she moved to seventh year; she'd paid attention to her studies in the middle of the war, somehow."

"So they were in the same class."

"Yeah." She was far away now, lost in her parents' past. "My mum isn't easily impressed; he realized that whatever charm he had wasn't going to win her over. He opened his eyes, really, when he tried to win her."

"Enough to become a healer?"

"He was rejected several times from the school," she put in, brown eyes glimmering with humour, "but he made it in the end."

"He won her in the end."

"Exactly." She smiled at me, and although it was sad, I was glad to see it was genuine. "I've always wanted get married to someone I can love like that – the way it's unconditional."

My eyes went downwards, unsettling in the distance between us, going from the table to the floor and to her. I could hear the crowd around the reception hall, laughing and dancing, some drunken calls, music blaring…

Maybe it was because it was the first time I'd really felt something for someone, but I couldn't imagine the scene without her. It was then I figured out that I was the type of person to fall fast and hard, and for someone who was absolutely convinced she was going to die.

Which, I repeat, she _won't._

And I'm not quite sure what made me say it. There was something in me that was being driven into near insanity by our close proximity, how pretty she looked in her dress, the way she, for _once,_trusted me.

So I leaned closer to her, waited for her eyes to come to mine and said it.

"I think I fancy you."

She froze, as predicted. My feeble confession was dancing in her mind.

"You… Al, did you just –"

"I like you," I whispered, not wanting to be overheard by the people who were convinced we were in love. "I mean, it's not good timing or anything, but at least you didn't marry someone who wasn't attracted to you in the slightest. It's not unconditional love, but…" I trailed off, my stomach sinking again. She closed her eyes. I moved my fingers in my hair, waiting.

"You're lying, aren't you?" she asked quietly, eyes still closed. "Are you trying to make me feel better in some strange way?"

I shook my head, even if she couldn't see me. "No, I figured it out a little while ago."

"Oh, Al…" She opened her eyes, and I looked at her, slightly guiltily. "You know I don't feel the same way, right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I figured as much."

If she looked miserable before, it was nothing like now. "Merlin, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen –"

"It won't interfere with the plan," I told her firmly, but still quietly. "Don't worry."

She put her head on her hands, elbow almost getting caught in the cake. "Are you going to… I dunno…"

"Randomly snog you when you're not expecting it?" I suggested, cracking a small smile. She turned to me, blushing a deep scarlet.

"Are you?"

"No," I answered honestly, "but I might want to."

She snorted before standing. "I really am sorry."

"I feel sorry for you, too," I told her mockingly seriously, putting on a straight face. "I don't know how you're not going to fall for me. It's going to be a tough feat, don't you think?"

She rolled her eyes, hand playing with the edge of her chair. "I think I'll manage. I'm going to tell Rose and Scorp we're leaving, okay?"

"Fine," I said, watching her head towards them, "but Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"He won her in the end."

And hey: maybe it was a good sign she wasn't running for the nearest doorway.


	14. Emily: The Dream

**Chapter Fourteen: Emily: The Dream**

"Emily, _please _wake up!"

I opened my eyes. Al was crouching over me, arms at my sides, immediately freezing when he saw I was awake. I was curled up, like I usually am – but covered in sweat. My heart was racing. I was shaking.

I shut my eyes again. It was just a dream. _Just a dream…_

Al let out a long, slow breath he'd been holding. I felt him slump as he let go of me, sitting back and crossing his legs as I stretched out, trying to catch my breath.

"Just a dream," I whispered shakily, trying to convince myself as I sat up, eyes still clenched tight. I began to rock myself in the darkness trying to swallow me whole, my heart still racing wildly in my chest.

_Just a dream._

All the blood, the darkness – it was a _dream._

"Emily…" I knew it was coming before he pulled me in his arms – and I immediately shrugged him away.

Even in my sleepy state, I'm not_ that _stupid.

"I'm going outside," I said shortly, slowly swinging my legs off the bed and my bare feet meeting the hardwood floor. I quickly pushed a green hoodie over my pajamas as Al began the badger me.

"_Now?_Where would you go at this hour?"

"On the roof," I whispered, pulling on some socks and pulling the window open. "Did this all the time at Hogwarts, don't worry."

"Wait –"

"I just need some time alone." Al shut his mouth and flopped back on his bed at this, seemingly annoyed. I let out a low, shaky chuckle before climbing out the window and climbing the ladder of branches I had assembled a week ago.

I needed a place to escape. I have Rose at work, Scorpius at home and Albus any other time; I don't have any downtime, anytime to just relax and _be._My childhood escape was in a tree house Scorpius and I had built when we were little. The roof of the Owlery was my go-to place whenever I needed to calm down – and now, the roof of our house was the only place I really felt at peace.

To put it shortly, I felt a little homesick.

I approached my usual spot on the roof, one I had secretly configured flat (after making sure the muggles were asleep) and sat down, Indian-style. It was risky to use magic outside, I know – but I needed _something_.

I shivered in the cool air; the drought was ending, it seemed. Heavy clouds were gathering in the west, promising a good storm. Pity, really; it rained enough in England, and we needn't _more _rain.

Like in my dream.

I tried to shake away the remnants of my subconscious, but it was as though they were burned in my mind, repeating the flashes of images, over and over. My father's lifeless eyes as he resided in a cell in Azkaban. My mother with him, pleading. Scorpius' family. Blood everywhere.

I shuddered and pulled my sweater closer to me, trying to breathe. I'd been having these nightmares ever since my dad lost his hearing. It shook me, knowing that if we didn't think of something, and _soon_, we'd be joining him.

But as of now, we're waiting for the ministry's decision.

Waiting is torture.

I swear, the fates must be having a good laugh.

Consider this: my dad's in prison. My mum is alone. The ministry is thinking up ways to either kill me or keep an imaginary war from starting. This healing internship is _really _hard, believe it or not. The guy I was faking a marriage with actually has feelings for me.

What. The. _Hell_.

And _why _did Albus go and decide he fancied me? I have a suspicion it had been going on since that time after the meeting, when I was crying – I mean, why else would he care?

And _why _does he have feelings for me?

I've never seen Albus in that light. Of course he's attractive – I'm not _blind_– but I've been so focused on the ministry and my parents and my family and pulling off all these lies and the wedding and work that I never thought of having feelings for my own husband.

Huh.

Fancy that.

If I liked him back, this would make things perfect for the ministry… but I _don't_.

Except for his abs, but that doesn't count.

THIS IS SO FREAKING UNFAIR.

And what's even worse is that I _like _having him as a friend. In trying to make it work, I've realized that even if he's more than slightly oblivious, he's humble and funny. I don't have feelings for him, but when I'm around him, I don't feel as nervous anymore.

What strikes me as confusing is that he confessed. I know he's blunt, but if I were him, I would've kept it to myself as to not make things awkward… but in a way, I'm glad he told me. At least I'm not in for any surprises (I hope), and I'm not stuck wondering why he's suddenly been acting a little different. I feel as if he told me to sort it out for himself – that he actually respected me that much.

And that made me respect him so much more.

But I have to admit that since his confession, I had been feeling a little more alone than usual. I'd become comfortable with the fact that I could talk to Al, because really? I didn't have anyone else.

Sure; Scorpius is my best friend, and I've become good friends with Rose, but they're _married._I don't want to intervene in the middle of that, and since Al wanted to be friends… well, it was fine.

I'm so glad Scorpius and Rose got married, but I couldn't help but envy them. I was telling Al about how I wish I actually married someone I was truly and completely in love with, and… well, it's true. Who _wouldn't _want that?

The truth is that I'm a little resentful – and perhaps that's what has kept me feeling so alone.

Unfortunately, feeling alone makes me vulnerable. It's why David and Amy and the rest of my friends could break me, and right now, I feel nothing but helpless as all these nightmares are dominating my sleep and we're _waiting_.

And I _could _talk to Al, but I just feel more and more guilty – so I sort of avoided it. Not exactly avoiding _him_ – I still have to share a freaking _bed_ with him – but I stopped opening up. And he _definitely _noticed.

I'm just biding my time until he confronts me about it, but I can't just lead Al on. That wouldn't be fair, and I'm not that sort of person to do that. But I _do _want to talk to him, and I'm scared to without him thinking there might be something in that.

I just started trusting him, and now I feel guilty about it.

_Shit_, I have to stop thinking.

I breathed through my nose and listened to the crickets chirping in the depths of the summer air. I've never felt so conflicted in trying to clear my mind, and as I held my head between my knees and watched the streaks of sunlight peek through the oncoming clouds, I didn't feel any better.

After all, I was just isolating myself – but sometimes I needed it.

This is much too complicated for five in the morning.

* * *

I crawled back underneath the covers, feeling groggy from the lack of sleep. Al turned as I leaned on the mattress. He obviously hadn't fallen back asleep when I left an hour ago.

"Feeling better?" I nodded, rubbing my nose a little to try and warm it. A vague memory flashed through my mind from weeks ago, when Al had me pressed against the wall and kissed my nose.

How did I _miss _this?

He sighed and sat up facing me, watching as I curled myself back into my usual position. "What was the dream about?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I answered softly, peering up at him.

"Emily, it's okay to be afraid –"

"I'm aware of that," I told him, turning around so my back was facing him. "Go back to sleep."

He sighed and lay back down beside me. "You don't have to pretend in front of me."

"I know."

In fact, he was the only one I didn't have act around.

* * *

"DEAR MERLIN, PUT ON SOME CLOTHES!"

Why, isn't that a lovely phrase to hear first thing in the morning?

I yawned and propped myself up on my elbows as Al burst back into the room, jumped on the bed beside me and buried his head under the pillow. I poked him.

"Leave me alone," came his muffled voice before he emerged, red faced and an expression of utmost disgust. "I forgot that married couples have sex."

I laughed. "I'm sure they had sex long before –" I stopped at the look on Al's face. "I mean, this consummates their marriage. Calm down." With a long groan, he hauled the covers off me and wrapped them around him.

"Al, you're just being whiny," I pointed out, poking him again through the thin white sheets. He didn't move. "_Albus._"

"Go away."

"What happened to you, Mr. I-Don't-Care-About-Anything?" I teased.

"I _don't _care."

"Then why the complaining?"

"I get it from you."

I frowned. "I don't complain."

"I know, I wish you did."

"_Why_?"

"So you'd talk to me." I felt a swooping sensation in my stomach and pulled the pillow off of his face. His eyes were still closed, refusing to acknowledge me.

"I'm sorry –"

"Emily, just – _stop_!" His now open eyes burned with something I hadn't really seen before in Al.

Was he actually angry?

"Stop what?"

"Stop apologizing for all this!" he burst out, frustrated. "It's _not_ your fault, and even if we didn't know what we were in for, I still agreed to it. Hell, it was me who _offered._"

"But –"

"I'm not _four,_ Emily," he continued, sitting up. "I can handle this just fine. What bugs me is that you know you can't, and yet you _still _insist on being so frigid about it all!"

I narrowed my eyes, sitting up as well. "Excuse me? I'm not _frigid _–"

"Yes, you are!" he argued back. I didn't understand why he was so angry; what exactly had I done? "Emily, we were _fine _before the meeting. I could say we were alright after, as well –"

"But then you had to tell me you fancy me!" I shot back, feeling my jaw clench. What had I done, exactly? "I don't want to lead you on, because _apparently_, whenever I open up to somebody, I _must _have feelings for them!"

Blood rushed to Al's face. "I'm not your shitty ex-boyfriend." My head dropped to stare at my hands that were resting in my lap, and I tried to push all the memories from my mind.

How did he guess so quickly?

"I'm not saying you are."

"I _like _the person you are when you're not worrying about everything," he said, reaching out to grab at my shoulder. I shrugged him off again, feeling my cheeks burn. "So talk to me. You'll feel better."

I didn't look at him as I spoke. "I feel guilty, Al."

"Don't. You _do _realize this is why you're getting nightmares, isn't it?"

"Perhaps."

"Besides, who else are you going to talk to, if not me?" I inhaled sharply, his words echoing my earlier thoughts.

"I don't know," I admitted.

Al laughed. "So are you going quit acting like a bitch yet?"

"I'll try," I told him, moving his pillow back on his side. "I didn't _mean _to, you know. You just freaked me out."

"I _am _kind of freaky."

I laughed as Scorpius walked into the room, looking a little dishevelled, but (thankfully) not naked. He stopped at the entrance, hand halfway through his hair. "Am I interrupting something?"

"'Course not." I shifted, making room so he could sit down on the bed. "Did Al interrupt you and Rose?" Scorpius scowled and Al covered his eyes, muttering incoherently to himself.

"Sorry about that," he said gruffly to Al, and he jerked his head.

"No problem."

"You two having a fight? I heard yelling, and –"

"We're done," I told him, looking around. "Where's Rose?"

"Packing."

"For what?"

Scorpius cracked a smile, lighting his grey eyes. "Our honeymoon." I stared at him, recognition slowly working its way into my brain, gears in my mind working furiously.

Holy crap.

Scorpius is going on his honeymoon.

His _honeymoon!_

I let out a gasp and pounced on Scorpius with a hug, feeling all of my earlier anger drain out of me. This is a milestone moment here, you know; Scorpius was one of those boys who went around when he was five and declared he was never going to get married.

Oh, the good old days.

(Don't be alarmed, I've been like this for nearly his entire wedding.)

"That's so exciting!" I said excitedly, letting go of him. "When are you leaving? Where are you going? How long –"

"Calm down, Emily," Al told me, shaking his head, but I could see he was grinning at my change of mood. What? This is exciting! "It's not like _you're _going –"

"Actually," Scorp interrupted, looking at Al, "she _is._" A silence filled the room at his words, and I stared at my best friend in bewilderment.

… _what_?

It was Al who spoke first. "What – _why_?"

"Both of you, I mean," Scorpius added hastily, laughing. "You guys are going on your honeymoon." We stared blankly at him.

I'm _pretty _sure Scorp thinks I'm pregnant and _not _in love with Al.

…right?

"I don't get it," Al supplied unhelpfully, his eyebrows crinkling together. "We don't need to go on a honeymoon, and we already _have _a baby on the way –"

"Do _you_ want to tell your parents that?" I groaned. Of _course _it'd be the parents who planned a freaking honeymoon for us. Al and I got out of it the first time by telling them we had a ministry in two days after our wedding (which was suspended). I was hoping they'd forgotten about it by now.

See how well _that _turned out?

Next time, I'm going with a memory charm.

"But this is supposed to be for _you,_" I said weakly. I looked at Al, whose face was expressionless; I guess I'd feel conflicted too, if I were him. "I mean, you guys are in love and –"

"I thought I heard –" Scorpius broke off suddenly, also glancing at Al before shaking his head. "Never mind. Don't worry, we're only in the same hotel, and after that, you can do whatever you want."

"What about work?" Al asked, checking his watch. "Isn't a honeymoon longer than a week, because I'm not sure if I can get off longer than that –"

"It's only a week. We have another ministry meeting afterwards." My ears perked up immediately.

"I thought you got cleared," I said carefully. Scorpius waved a hand.

"Just some paperwork," he said, dismissing the subject. "Anyway, our parents really thought this through; spoke to our employers and everything." My shoulders slumped and my excitement slowly began to slip away.

I _really _didn't want to go on a honeymoon. I was already behind at work.

"Where are we going?"

"Rome."

"Rome? As in _Italy_?" Albus raised an eyebrow at my outburst, but I didn't care; I've always loved traveling. Though I hadn't gotten out of the continent, I'd been to several places around Europe with my parents. Seeing the world was one thing I really wanted to do – one of those 'before I die' sort of things.

And if I was going to die soon, then… why not?

"I'll go if you want to," I said to Al after a few moments, trying to ignore Scorpius' knowing smirk. "Really, I've always wanted to go to Italy." Al surveyed me for a minute, mulling it over before he shrugged.

"Then let's go."

"Great!" Scorpius exclaimed happily, leaping off the bed and bouncing down the hallway to meet Rose. "We're leaving at four, so pack!" I laughed again and lay back down, closing my eyes and smiling.

_Italy._

Wow.

My family and I were planning to go this summer, coincidentally, before the whole ministry thing happened. I couldn't believe I'd get the chance anyway. Al lay back down beside me as well; I didn't know what he was doing until I opened my eyes, startled to find his gaze set on me.

"Oh," I mumbled, blushing. "Hi."

His glare softened as he smiled. "Ready to talk?"

"I guess," I said, feeling unfamiliar with actually talking about my problems with someone like Albus, who seemingly didn't care about anything. "But I have to ask: did you learn to be a psychologist from an article you wrote, or read?"

"Wrote." He chuckled, pulling on my arm so I was on my side, facing him. "I'm not trying to be a psychologist, I'm trying to _help _you."

"Why?"

"Because you're cutting into my sleep with these nightmares." I wrinkled my nose.

"That's nice of you."

"I do what I can."

"So what's the real reason?" I asked. He ran a hand though his hair, looking as though he were about to drop a bomb or something.

Whatever it is, I bet it's not bad as him fancying me.

"You were shaking and moaning and crying in your sleep, Emily. Do you realize how difficult it was to wake you up?" I shook my head slowly, trying to digest it all.

"What are you saying, exactly?"

He shifted uncomfortably on top of the twisted sheets. "I don't want you to get sleep paralysis."

"I –"

"It's when you're awake, but you can't move," he explained. "You're paralyzed. Apparently the panicking you experience is terrifying and can be traumatizing –"

"I know what sleep paralysis is, Al," I said irritably, cutting across him. "I'm going to Healing School. Why do you think I'm in danger of getting it?"

"Because your sleep patterns have been shifting for a while now, and you're getting all these nightmares. It's most common in teenagers, so maybe –"

"I don't think those are reasons to believe I might get sleep paralysis," I said gently. "Sure, I'll lose sleep, and that's not healthy, but paralysis…" I shook my head. "It's different. I might just be a heavy sleeper."

He averted his eyes. "You just scared me, is all," he said softly, as honest as ever.

_Oh._

If I said that out loud, I probably would've squeaked.

He went quiet for a moment, staring at me again. Why did he have to do that? I had never felt more like an open book in front of Al, and, well… I didn't like it. I preferred that people didn't know more about me. They only hurt me.

But really… who else did I have?

His eyes swept over me, and I squirmed, but resisted turning over; if this is what it takes making it up to him, talking about my problems, then I guess I'd do it. It was only fair, and for what it's worth, it was an entirely selfless thing to ask.

Well, _almost. _Besides him trying to "win me over", like he implied.

That'll take quite a bit of effort on his part.

"I…" He was leaning closer to me, hand reaching out, and I was beginning to panic a little. What exactly do you do in this situation? I don't want him to _hate_ me, but I don't want to lead him on, and – _what _is he doing?

His hand brushed my bangs out of eyes, which were probably wide in my alarm. I suppose if I were head-over-heels for him, like half the girls in our year, this would've been romantic – but it's not for me.

And I'm _kind of _freaking out.

"Umm –"

"I don't know why…" he trailed off, still lost in his own world. "… _how _I never noticed you before." I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks flush as I gently moved his hand off the top of my head.

Oh Merlin, he really wasn't kidding. He _does _fancy me.

"We should talk now," I suggested awkwardly and a little too loud for the moment, hoping to break the reverie he was currently residing in. He pulled away and leaned on his back, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, we should."

So we did. In my haste to forget what had just happened, I told him about nearly everything I had been thinking, even if he already knew about it: the ministry and how unfair it was. What I saw in my nightmares. How I was falling behind at work. How I felt so, _so _homesick.

And somehow, even though I knew I was in no danger of sleep paralysis, I felt any fear of the condition inch away. Opening up to Al was easier than I thought, and I couldn't help wonder that there was some part of me that wanted me to.

It was the part of me that trusted him.

When I fell silent, my voice was almost hoarse but my heart felt considerably lighter. Al let the silence ring before he spoke for the first time since I started.

"Am I a problem, too?"

Yes, Albus. Just a little.

"No," I mumbled out, "of course not. I'll make everything up to you, I promise."

"You don't have to, really –"

"That's what people say not to feel awkward," I told him, "not because they _mean _it."

Al laughed, standing up. "It's almost lunch. I think we'd better go tell Rose and Malfoy we're going to St. Mungo's."

I stood as well. "What for?"

"Keeping up pretenses, remember?" he teased, poking me in the stomach. _Right._I'm supposed to be pregnant. "We'll go out to eat instead."

"Not a date," I pointed out, feeling a little foolish. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine, it's not a date," he deadpanned. "Feel better?"

My smile stretched out. "Loads."


	15. Emily: The Questions

**Chapter Fifteen: Emily: The Questions**

It was the unfamiliarity that hit me as I woke.

_What's going on? Where am I? What's happening? Who the _hell_ is in my bed – _oh.

You get the point, I think.

My breathing was heavy as I lay there, sweaty and unsettled, heart pounding and feeling my dreams flash into my mind. I clutched at my sheets, recognizing the honeymoon suite we were staying at while in Rome. It was Al who lay beside me (obviously), face stuffed in his pillow, arm draped around my waist as usual – except he wasn't awake. Since I'd been having nightmares, I had unintentionally kept him up, too.

I sighed as I stared up at the ceiling. We had arrived in Italy last night by Portkey. The hotel was part of the wizarding community here; nearly every historical ruin that hadn't been renovated for muggle tourists had been magically transformed into wizarding buildings. As for the muggles, they could only see their ruins.

Suckers. They were beautiful buildings.

Unfortunately, it became quite clear that the use of magic would be limited. Even if we were living in a wizarding hotel, it was clear that the muggle population was much larger than the number of witches and wizards. In fact, there were _no _spots for purely magical sightseeing.

No, really. _Zero._

There _was,_however, magical background in nearly every Roman myth; I was looking forward to the tours I would be embarking on for the rest of the week.

But these dreams… they freak me out. I had never felt so lost when waking from a nightmare, because Rome was _different._ It looked different, felt different, _smelled _different… but obviously, I figured out soon enough where I was.

Seriously, how stupid do you think I am?

It just scared me, waking up in an unfamiliar place.

(Don't tell anyone.)

I lay there long after my breath had caught, just listening to the busy streets through the window that was only open a crack. I heard vendors and the honking of vehicles, as well as the distinct smell of gas, mixed with something else.

Did you know it was possible to smell heat?

Well, you do now!

I looked at Al, peacefully snoring. I wish these dreams would stop and he wouldn't have to wake up every single time I got up, gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably. It was easy for me to fall asleep, and I was a heavy sleeper; I think he was the exact opposite.

I bit my lip as he turned over, lying on his back. I hoped he wouldn't wake; he deserved to sleep after comforting me the multiple times I jerked awake in one night. I watched his bare chest rise up and down as he slept, and immediately averted my eyes once I caught myself.

I was _not _staring. I have no idea what you're talking about.

Instead, I settled my gaze on his face. It's funny how the thing you hate most about a person becomes the thing that you love the most. A few weeks ago, I despised his carefree nature with every fibre of my being… but I think I only envied it, really. I liked the fact that he could put stuff behind him and think ahead. I liked the fact he was always joking around, because it made _me _feel that everything was going to be okay.

I smiled. For someone who apparently couldn't share a bed, he was surprisingly very relaxed. His cheekbones were reddened and slumped due to his slightly open mouth, and he was gratified. I couldn't imagine him anything but content, and after these few weeks, I respected him for it.

He should stay like this. He should stay happy.

… but I am _not _giving him the satisfaction of letting him catch me staring at him.

Nope, he can boost his ego some other way.

I had been wondering about that, to be honest. Why did he fancy me? Was it because he was stuck with me for a while? Did he hit his head? My eyes wandered to aforementioned area, and I scooted up on my elbow to check between the black tufts of his hair.

His hair looks _really _soft. I bet if I just –

_What _am I thinking? I can't touch his hair while he's sleeping! That's beyond creepy!

… and _really_? I'm actually checking if there are bumps on his head?

Even though Al was still asleep, I quickly darted back in between the covers and turned around. My face was burning, and I pressed hands to my face to try and cool myself off. I cannot believe I had done that. I didn't. I _couldn't _have.

Oh dear _Merlin, _I was checking him out.

My breath caught as Al let out a soft groan. I felt the mattress shift as he turned, and his arms fully wrapped around my waist. My back was stiff as a board as it pressed against his chest (his _naked _chest, I should add!), and I tried not to squeak in surprise.

Though I really shouldn't be surprised, this happens every day.

I'm _so _glad we haven't confronted this matter.

I slowly turned around, thinking he must have been awake, and was truly shocked he wasn't. How couldn't he be? Wasn't it _me _who was the heavy sleeper? If he was awake, he was hiding it extremely well; his breathing was deep and slow, blowing into my face every once in a while.

We were _really _close together.

Right now would not be a good time to squeak.

In my wildest dreams (and nightmares), I never would've thought that _this _would happen. And what's worse is that he fancies me, and I'd never seen him in that way before he mentioned it. He was just the guy who'd offered to marry me to save my family. I hadn't paid attention to him.

And right now, it was just about impossible to _not _pay attention to him.

_C'mon, Emily, think. Think smart. Think _Slytherin.

Actually, never mind. That'd be quite cruel.

I blatantly ignored our proximity and turned around again, his chin brushing against the back of my head. I wiggled around a little to loosen his grip and lightly grasped at his hands around my stomach. I eased them apart and came out of his grasp.

YES! VICTORY! I'M FREE!

_I cannot believe he's still asleep._

I should've been eating my words (thoughts?), because he began to stir. I blushed and immediately turned away, shutting my eyes as he sat up. He let out a long breath before suddenly speaking.

"Emily, you're not asleep. Quit kidding yourself."

Dammit.

"I'm definitely asleep," I mumbled, curling my legs and cursing my inability to lie. I can never properly act around Al; it's a pathetic showing of the Slytherin in me. "See? My eyes are shut and everything."

He leaned over, and I glimpsed a sleepy smile through my "tightly" shut eyes. "Nightmare?"

"Maybe. Want to hear about it?"

"Sure." He leant back and I rolled over, blushing again. He hadn't leaned _that _far back.

"My dad was at Azkaban," I began, "but he wasn't in a cell. You know how the prison is on an island?"

"Yeah."

"He was there, on the island. Although I've never _been _there," I clarified, rolling my eyes at my mind's imagination. "I was imagining him in a storm, as cliché as that sounds. And he was standing on a cliff. And…" I trailed off as my throat closed in on itself, remembering.

"Emily?"

"He was talking to me," I said quietly, not looking at Al. "Dad just kept saying 'don't give up' over and over, and then…"

"He jumped," Al guessed. I nodded, my eyes travelling back to his.

"Yeah."

"I had a dream like that," Al confessed, running a hand through his probably very soft hair and closing his eyes. "Except it was my friend who passed away a few years ago. He was on a cliff in a warm place, and I remember lots of beaches and stuff…" He was chewing on the inside of his cheek. "He kept saying that I had to smile, and I asked why, and then he jumped…"

My insides felt cold. "He wanted you to be happy."

"I guessed as much."

"You had a friend who passed away?" I asked, my stomach sinking. Until that moment, I had assumed his life was perfect. I had assumed he had nothing to be sad about, and it was the reason he was so content.

I had assumed.

I really have to stop doing that.

He shrugged. "The summer right before fifth year. He had some sort of illness. The healers," he added, "they didn't even know. They were so ignorant about it. They didn't even realize it until he was on his deathbed." He sounded disgusted and bitter.

"You were really close, weren't you?"

He looked me straight in the eyes. "He was like – he _was _my brother, Em." I twisted my hair, feeling uncomfortable.

"I promise," I said quietly, "when I become a healer, I won't do that. I'll… I dunno." I sat up, and he followed suit. "I'll do anything for my patients. It's why I admire my dad."

Al's face broke into the most heart wrenching smile I'd ever seen. He leaned over and kissed my cheek slowly, as if he were saying something – as if he were sending his message of his gratefulness.

I blushed and turned away, barely accepting his thanks.

But I did. That had to count for something, right?

* * *

"So," Al commented as we leaned on the stone ledge away from the fountain, "_this _is the famous Trevi Fountain." I nodded, glancing at our tour guide for a moment before turning back to him.

"Are you going to listen to the tour guide at all?"

"Probably not." A grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth before he shrugged. I shook my head in amusement before looking back at the majestic piece of work before us. "My sister has strange phases where she feels the need to look up random historical facts. A few years ago, she was _obsessed _with the monuments in Italy and Greece."

"Did you visit before, then?" I asked, watching the crowds of tourists gathering around the fountain, squinting a little as the sun reflected off the great white fountain. People from all around the world were taking pictures, posing with their families. I ignored the pang in my chest and turned back to Albus.

"No, but Lily did. She's a huge history buff."

"There aren't too many of those, thanks to Professor Binns." He laughed.

"That's true." We went quiet for a moment, just listening to the other tourists and the guide chattering away. I decided to take a look in the pamphlet.

"Apparently," I said, still reading, "if you throw two coins in the fountain, you'll return to Rome." Al snorted.

"I bet there are two galleons in there, then," he muttered. I rolled my eyes and kept reading.

"That was the first promise. The second promise is that you'll fall in love while in Rome."

"Definitely not throwing any coins in, now," he joked uncomfortably, turning around and propping himself on the ledge, his back to the fountain and eyes at his hands in his lap. I nearly groaned.

I have a knack for making things awkward, don't I?

Just shoot me now.

"I guess I wouldn't throw it in," I said nervously, "I'd rather come back to visit some other place. I mean, The Eternal City is great –"

"Then where do you want to visit again?" he asked as I sat beside him, facing the fountain.

"I really liked France."

"You've been there?" I nodded and looked back to the pamphlet in my hands.

"Yeah, it's a beautiful place… did you know that throwing three coins in the fountain, each coin by a different individual, it promises either marriage or divorce?"

Bloody hell, _what _am I doing?

Al gave me a strange look before turning around and, thankfully, staring at the fountain. If he had answered me, I wouldn't have had any idea what to say. Perhaps he would've said, "Been there, done that"? _Then _what would I say?

What? It could happen!

… and I'm over-analyzing again.

"Hey, Emily?" I shook my head and looked at him.

"Yeah?"

"The guy in the middle looks kind of cocky, don't you think?"

I raised an eyebrow. _"What?_"

"Right there!" he exclaimed, pointing to the middle of the stone fountain. A man carved out of stone stood front and centre, half naked (as were nearly all the statues). "See? That's pretty smug to me."

I pressed my lips tightly together to keep from laughing. _Really, _Albus? "Maybe you're just jealous that he's more built than you are."

"_What?_" Al strained his neck to see. "There is no way a _statue _–"

"Or the guy modeled after the statue –"

"No way," he refused, and I bit my tongue trying not to laugh.

"I dunno, Al." I pretended to be seriously comparing, glancing back and forth in between the two. "This guy is pretty fit compared to you, I must say." Suddenly, a strange expression overcame his face.

Uh oh.

"What?" I asked defensively. He smirked.

"You were checking me out, weren't you?" I froze.

"Of course not, Al," I said weakly, trying smile.

"Of course you were, Emily," he retorted, mimicking me. "How else would you compare?" My eyes were slits as he slid off the ledge, looking as smug as the damn statue. My cheeks burned as he held out his hand.

"Come on, I think we accidentally ditched the tour guide." I grudgingly accepted his hand and jumped off the ledge, taking one last glance at the fountain before coming face-to-face with Al, who wasn't moving.

"What?" I asked irritably, my face still hot. He grinned, fishing through his pockets.

"Want to throw these in?" he asked, holding up two galleons.

Needless to say, I found out that it was very easy to injure Al.

* * *

"Well, that was interesting."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're lying."

"A little." Al jumped face first onto the hotel bed, exhaling loudly. "Bloody hell, I'm really tired."

"Why?" I asked, sitting beside him and checking my watch. "It's only four in the afternoon." He let out a huge yawn and yanked the blankets over him, carelessly tossing his glasses on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Whenever you wake up," he mumbled, "you fall asleep within a few minutes. I always take a while to fall back asleep." I bit my lip guiltily as he stuffed his face back into the pillow.

"Sorry."

"'Salright." I leaned forward and poked him. "What?"

"Do you want to be here?" I asked bluntly, asking the question that had been gnawing at my insides for half the day. "I mean, here in Italy."

He twitched. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been sulking and whining all day."

"No…" He paused. "I didn't really want to come, to be honest."

I sighed, my suspicions confirmed. "Then why did you agree to come?" He flipped over.

"You really wanted to go," he said sleepily, lifting himself up on the bed. "I could see it. Our parents would've gotten suspicious if we didn't go, and I think I can handle a week off from work to go to Rome."

"You didn't want to go because of work?" He shrugged.

"Nah, I just… didn't think it was a good time to go, with everything going on." He collapsed back on the pillows again, closing his eyes. "Do something for two hours; I'll meet you at dinner on that bridge."

"If you say so," I told him, but I didn't stand up. "You should've just told me you didn't want to go, I wouldn't have minded –"

_Snore. _

The little git had already fallen asleep, mouth wide open.

I laughed and headed for the door.

* * *

I narrowed my eyes at yet _another _man, around twenty or so, walked away with that damn grin. You know – the one that's full of mischief and wickedness and you just want to slap it right off of him.

More like he just slapped my arse.

If he weren't a muggle, I'd hex him halfway around the world.

_What do muggle girls _do_ when they can't hex the guy?_ I thought angrily as I continued my walk. For the past two hours, I'd been walking around the streets, hopping on and off tour buses, checking out the shops and just admiring the city. I mean, I was in _Rome._The Eternal City is absolutely beautiful, and I couldn't want to see more, especially the city at night.

Unfortunately, I had been groped too many times to count.

They run before I can slap them!

What. Do. I. _DO?_

And then there are the men with roses. At least three different times, a man had given me a rose oh-so-charmingly, flirted a bit and then demand pay for the stupid flower.

Quite rude, don't you think?

So typical. I've attracted the creepers.

In short: I decided to never go out alone in the streets of Rome again, at least at night. I was getting pretty pissed off, here.

Not to say that I completely hated the street life. Like I said, I took a couple of buses around, and I had to ask: are there _any_rules there? By the amount of heavy traffic and lack of street regulations, I was absolutely amazed we didn't crash. There were countless motorcycles and tiny cars, and the rush was almost… exhilarating.

They also honked their horns a lot.

At me, as well.

Like I said: I've attracted the creepers.

The most amazing part of Rome, however, was walking around on a regular street with a shiny new vehicle on my right and a ruin on the left. There's just so much history in the city, and even though I've never been a huge fan of the subject, it was incredible to buildings that have been there for thousands and thousands of years. It was almost an if-these-walls-could-talk feeling; I bet the city could tell a thousand stories. Rome really was a hybrid of history and the latest European culture.

I found myself at Ponte Sant'Angelo – the pedestrian bridge everyone always saw in pictures – and just walked alongside of it, walking around crowds of people, admiring the waters. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, another man approached me – except this time, instead of grabbing my arse, he lifted my skirt.

Lifted. My. Skirt.

And that sneaky smug look was back.

What the _hell _is wrong with the men in this city?

I was humiliated but seething as I smoothed my skirt down and glared at him. That's it; I don't care if he's a muggle. He's going _down._

I glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching before opening my bag. Holding my wand, I whispered an incantation and poked the tip out of the bag. Several feet ahead, the man tripped on the cobblestone and fell.

Hard.

Revenge is _sweet_.

I sniggered as I shut my bag, turning back to the bridge and leaning against it, facing the waters. It kind of reminded me of playing pranks with Scorpius while at school. I really missed that, just sneaking around and having fun and just getting detention if we got into trouble.

"_I saw that._" I froze at the whispering in my ear, hands making their way around my back and onto my stomach.

Shit.

Not _another _one.

I twisted my neck around quickly, and sighed in relief upon seeing Al's tired smile playing on his lips. Seriously; the men in Rome get a little grabby, and if it wasn't Al who'd come up behind me, he would've been dead meat.

"Al, I breathed, shoulders slumping. "It's just you. Bloody hell, you scared me." He laughed and dropped his chin on my shoulder. His breath tickled my neck.

"Why did you just jinx that guy?" he asked, closing his eyes. I wiggled around, but he wouldn't let go.

"No reason," I said, trying to pry his fingers off my waist. "Can you get off of me?"

"Maybe, if you tell me." I groaned and resisted the urge to hurt him.

"He lifted my skirt." At once, Al's eyes snapped open and glared at the guy, who was now very far away and trying to remedy his bruised ego by glancing up more skirts – ones that were much shorter than mine, and didn't require any lifting.

"He got what he deserved, then," Al muttered, grabbing at my clawing hands and gripping them tightly around my middle. "Why are you even wearing a skirt?"

"You're supposed to get dressed up at night." His eyes travelled from the water to me, and I rolled my eyes. "Can you let go, now? I told you what happened!"

"Nope," he answered, yawning widely. "I'm still sleepy."

"Oh." I bit my lip and avoided his eyes. "Sorry." He immediately shook his head and pressed his chest closer to my back, playing with my fingers in his hands. I felt stiff and unnerved; much like before, I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was absolutely sure I wanted him to _stop,_but wasn't sure how to tell him how uncomfortable I was.

"Don't be sorry," he murmured, eyes dropping shut. "I'd rather you talk to me than have more nightmares."

"I don't think that's working."

"It will," he said, confident as usual. "What are you thinking about now?"

"The ministry."

"What about it?"

I bit my lip. "They'll probably come up with something that'll make us sacrifice something else, so we'll be less likely to agree to it."

Al snorted. "What does that even _mean_?"

"It means the condition has to be something we won't like," I explained patiently, the corners of my mouth twitching. "They won't want us to agree to it. If we don't do it, it'll prove our marriage is fake."

"But there are a ton of other people who're doing the same thing," Al reasoned. "I understand that the condition they're going to come up with will be horrible, because they need to find the criminals, but everyone's basically doing it to keep their families safe."

"Exactly," I agreed, closing my eyes. "If a couple refuses, they'll be more inclined to capture them. They don't care if they're throwing innocent people in prison, as long as they _think _they're getting somewhere."

"So you're saying is that if we do it, they'll win, and if we don't do it, they still win."

I nodded, feeling my stomach knot underneath Al's hands. "Yeah."

I'm surprised Al actually understood that in his sleepy haze.

"I'm glad you're still talking to me," he said quietly, eyes still closed. "Even after…"

I stiffened. I was hoping he wouldn't bring it up.

"Right," I said uncomfortably, feeling my face burn in remembering his confession. "I just figured I liked having you as a friend instead of _making things awkward._"

(If that isn't heavy implication, I don't know what is.)

"Great." His voice was steady and his expression was unreadable, but I had a feeling he wasn't happy with my response. And why would he be? "That's absolutely wonderful, Emily."

"Not helping."

"Right," he echoed. I groaned.

"Shit," I muttered, reluctantly opening my eyes. "This is wrong, Al. Get off."

"What?"

"I'm leading you on," I told him firmly, but gently pulling my hands away from his. "I can't do it; it'll just give you the wrong idea –"

"You're _not _leading me on," he said quietly, sounding quite disappointed as he opened his eyes. "At least, not anymore."

"You deserve better than that."

"Maybe." He caught my hands again. "Maybe not."

"_Albus –_"

"Just relax, will you?" he interrupted, suddenly louder. His voice was strained. "You're supposed to be on _holiday. _It's supposed to be fun, but you're too busy worrying again."

"It's not like you're having any fun, either!" I wrenched my hands out of his and spun around, taking him by surprise. "Look, I'm not going to let you treat me like your girlfriend, because I'm _not._"

"But –"

"You're making me nervous," I admitted quietly. "Really nervous."

Something in his expression softened. "Am I?"

I hit his arm, and he laughed. "You prat! I'm trying to tell you something!"

"You didn't expect I was going to just give up," he teased, "were you?"

"I was _hoping –_"

"Do something for me, will you?" Al asked, spinning me around and putting his arms around me again. "Can I ask that much?"

"Of course you can," I answered grudgingly, pretty much having accepted he wasn't going to let go of me any time soon. "As long as it doesn't involve anything physical, because you know that I really can't handle that –"

"Try to fall for me?"

I became very still. I was aware that he was drawing circles into my hand as I listened to the crowds of people passing by in a blend of different languages. It was hot in Rome, but he was doing it again and making the heat rise in the pit of my stomach.

He was making me nervous.

And of all things, I couldn't believe I'd told him that. Does it make me a hypocrite?

"Why?" I croaked out.

"Isn't it obvious?" His lips were very close to my ear, sending shivers up my spine. "If anything, it'll help us. Maybe our marriage wouldn't be a lie anymore."

"I… I _had _considered that." He didn't say anything. "Is that what you're hoping for?"

"I guess."

"Well." I couldn't think, couldn't help feeling like everything was buzzing in my ears because he was just too close, too nerve-wracking, too _intimate_. My mind was blurring in thoughts that were just too fast, and the only thing that made _sense _was this:

_Could _I fall for him?

"Emily?" I turned my head a little to meet his eyes, and my stomach flipped over.

"I…" I honestly didn't know what to say. I've been so intent on not letting people hurt me, and to let myself fall was the farthest from what I was used to. It's not that I didn't _want_ to let Al in, it was that I _couldn't._

But I wasn't sure if that was true anymore, did I?

I turned my head back to the waters, more aware than ever that I could feel Al's heart racing through my back. I couldn't hurt him. He was my friend. Who else could I trust right now?

"Please?" I refused to look at him. "Try?"

And what else could I say, really?

"Okay."


	16. Emily: The Tea

**Chapter Sixteen: Emily: The Tea  
**

_Shit._

That was the single, most prominent thought that ran through my mind that morning. And no, it wasn't as if I actually had to go to the bathroom – okay, maybe a little. Not _that _badly. But I held it in. I didn't exactly have a choice in that matter.

And why, you might ask, had I held in my business rather than going to the washroom like a normal person?

It _might've_ been because Al had a death-grip around me, pinning my arms to my sides and making it physically impossible for me to move, let alone happily walk into the tiled room, shut the door and giving my bladder some _relief._

You'd think I'd be used to this by now. But I'm not.

_I need Rose,_I thought angrily as I fought the urge to kick him. That feeling was quite strong, I should add; I was losing the battle between kicking him and merely trying to remove his hands from around me. Rose was the one who got me out of his arms whenever he held me this tight, which wasn't too often; unfortunately, if I tried to call Rose, she'd probably be naked.

Not that I had any way of calling Rose. I couldn't move my arms.

I shifted and twisted around, trying to create some _room _between my body and Al's. I know I was supposed to be trying to fall for him and whatever, and maybe seeing him without a shirt helps, but the fact that he's got me trapped when I desperately need my freedom was enough to make me hate him for the time being.

In other words, he took one step forwards and one step backwards. I'll admit that falling in love is better than any other plan we've had so far, but it's easier said than done. Perhaps it's not that the plan is better, but _simpler,_and that doesn't always work.

For example: it'd be quite simple to knee Albus in the groin, and he'd let go. That would be the most straightforward option, and it'd get the job done – wouldn't it? But I didn't want to hurt him. Strange as it was, I kind of liked having him around, even though he was a little brat while on the tours around Rome.

The tours weren't _that _bad. Sure, it was really hot. Because there were so many people around the main attractions, the tour guide had to stick up little flags so we could keep track of him. It was humid. We got lost a couple of times, but we always found our way back. Did I mention the heat?

That's all that Al could talk about. He whined so much, I nearly hit him over the head.

I should've. He acted like a bloody _child_.

And then he had to trap me in his sweaty arms like I was about to die or something.

OH LOOK, IRONY!

I gritted my teeth and fully turned over so I was facing him. He was sleeping on his side, mouth open, eyes still closed despite my struggling. His eyelashes were so long that they hit the top of his cheeks. Once I saw him, I really didn't want to wake him; he looked too peaceful.

... oh bloody hell, I've turned _soft!_

I quickly snapped out of it as he let out another quiet snore. There was no other way out of this situation without hurting him; my hands were trapped, he was bloody stronger than I could ever be, I couldn't call Rose and probably wouldn't risk the chance of nakedness anyway, my wand was sitting on the desk halfway across the room and the chances him letting go all on his own was next to _nil._

In short: I had to wake him.

Merlin, I must've been desperate.

"Al?" I said softly, trying to move my hand to nudge him but failed. "Al, wake up."

"Mmmf."

"Al, please wake up."

"Hmm?" His nose twitched, and I stifled a giggle.

"Wake up."

He pulled me closer; I squeaked as his chest hit mine. "_Whyyy?_"

"Seriously, Albus," I said a little louder, wondering exactly why I had been practically whispering before. I was beginning to panic; like I mentioned before, I knew I was supposed to fall for him, but this was _not _helping. I wiggled around a little bit more. "Please, wake up."

He clenched his eyes shut. "Nightmare again?"

"Not this time," I admitted. He yawned and dug his head into his pillow.

"Go back to sleep."

"No – _Al_!" I shouted his name, and he groaned.

"_What?_"

"Get _off _me!" His eyes snapped open at my sharp tone and loosened his grip. I immediately scrambled away from him, my face burning from embarrassment.

"Oh," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "_That_."

I _love _humiliation, don't you?

I'm going to go and hide under the bed now.

"Sorry for waking you," I mumbled back, straightening the pillow I had knocked over in the process of jumping away from Albus. A strange look came over his sleepy expression before he lunged, grabbing onto my wrists.

"What the _hell_?" I demanded after I landed where I had been before, face-to-face, lying beside each other. "Al, I'm sorry!"

"Not that," he replied, grinning. He was now completely awake. "I thought we might like to confront this little _issue._"

"_What_ issue?" Something was striking through me at the sight of the mischief in his eyes – not panic, as I had felt before, but _terror._ He was going to bring up this little _cuddling _thing that had been going on for weeks.

Bloody hell, it was the last thing I wanted to talk about.

"You know _what_," he replied, pressing his lips to my hands, which were curled up in fists. I tried to resist my earlier urge to kick him. "Why don't you just admit that you don't really mind it?"

"Because I _do_ mind it." My voice was low and fierce, and I had dropped all pretenses to glare at him with all my might. "You basically squeeze me half to death every night, and you think I don't _mind_?"

"Nope." In a flash, he had let go of my wrists, turned me around and pinned my arms around myself again. I shook with anger as his lips came to my ear, voice still excruciatingly happy.

"Let go," I mustered, and he laughed.

"Are you telling me you don't like this?" he whispered softly from behind me, loosening his grip – not enough for me to escape, but enough so that it wasn't too tight. "Not at all?"

"No." It was weak, I couldn't help it; I had always felt safe around him. It didn't mean I _liked _that he held me every night. I had just gotten used to it.

Of course. _That _was it.

"Try?" he asked even more quietly. I bit my lip and clenched at my eyes; he had gotten me. I had already agreed to try, and I was completely and utterly guilty of avoiding that request.

I could tell he was smiling as I let out a deep breath and relaxed my body, letting my legs stretch out. "There. I'm trying. Happy?" Al let out a chuckle and slid his hands down to my waist, turning me onto my back.

"Yeah," he answered cheerfully, keeping an arm draped over my stomach as I turned my head to look at him. "Good morning."

"Morning." It was almost painful to see his smile; I didn't want this. I didn't want to lead him on, and he'd talked me into agreeing to try and fancy him. I mean, it _could _work, but at the moment, I hadn't a clue.

He was way too happy, because he thought it _was _working – but it wasn't.

I think.

"We're going to be late," Al commented after glancing at the alarm clock, but made no movement to suggest he was getting up; he yawned and buried his face in my neck. "The tour starts in twenty minutes."

"I thought you didn't want to go," I said crossly, tilting my head to pull my neck away from his lips. He shrugged.

"Well, if you want to –"

"I don't think I want to put up with another day of whining," I cut in, and he lifted his head to grin sheepishly at me. Yeah, that's right, _feel guilty_!

The mattress creaked as he sat up. "There are other things to do in this place, aren't there?" I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about it. Of course there was more to do – but that involved more money.

I guess if our parents are paying for everything…

"Well, we could always – _whoa!_"

THIS BOY NEEDS TO LEARN ABOUT SOMETHING CALLED _PERSONAL SPACE_.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" I all but yelled at Albus, who had decided at that moment to place his hands on each side of my torso, awkwardly leaning over me and letting his lips reach _very _close to mine.

"Nothing," he answered cheerfully, continuing on his journey. I began to panic again; I had only _just_ agreed to try and fall for him, and now he's trying to _kiss _me? WHY IS HE BEING SO PUSHY?

"Let's talk about this," I said, trying to reason with him and push my head back into the pillow at the same time. "We've known each other for almost a month –"

"Actually, seven years and a month," he put in, looking very amused.

He's _enjoying _this.

Bloody hell.

"Exactly!" I was speaking very fast, wishing he would stop looking at my lips. "Do you really think enough time has allotted for anything to happen? I mean, we barely know each other." Al actually scoffed at this, and to be honest, I couldn't blame him.

"I'd say we know each other pretty well," he said, momentarily distracted. "I even know your _sleep _habits, for Merlin's sake –"

"Okay, okay!" I said a little hysterically, my heart beginning to speed up as he inched even closer. "But that doesn't mean I want to be used –"

"Trust me, I really can't use you for anything," he said quietly, very close now. My face began to burn hot, and I could feel Al's body heat coming off of him. "Come on, Em, you said you'd try."

"I _am_ trying – _eep!_" My arms suddenly found it in themselves to save me, pushing at his torso as he went in for the kill. I could only push him a few inches away, but at least he wasn't kissing me, right?

Oh dear Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?

"_Emily,_" he groaned. I could feel the vibrations through his chest. "What's _wrong_?"

"Too fast," I breathed, trying to slow my heart beat. His breath was still hitting my face. Disappointment was very clear in his expression, but I didn't care. "Too fast, _way_ too fast. And dear Merlin, have you never heard of _morning breath_?"

Definitely not romantic at all. Sheesh.

"Seriously?" I nodded. He exhaled loudly and collapsed back onto the bed beside me. I immediately turned to him; there was no _way _I was going to let him sulk the entire day. I already had a full day of that, and it was annoying.

"No tour today?" He nodded, still looking sullen, and I laughed. "You're such a child. You can't _always _get what you want."

"Shut up," he grumbled, crossing his arms. I sighed and scooted over to kiss his cheek. He looked at me questioningly, but his expression cleared as he pulled me back towards him.

How did I know that would work?

I'm just too good at this. Obviously.

"Okay, this time, you really need to let go," I told him, smiling slightly at his confusion. "I need to use the bathroom."

* * *

We ended up ditching the tour and going to Babington's Tea Room for lunch. Or breakfast. Technically, we hadn't eaten either. The Tea Room was quite popular with English speaking people present in Rome.

"This used to be the only tea room in Rome." I was reading off my tour book as we sat down. "Tea was only sold at the pharmacy before." Al wasn't listening to me; he was eyeing the place with apprehension.

"This is really odd," he commented. "It's got that old-timey look." I smiled.

"It kind of reminds me of Hogwarts." I felt almost nostalgic sitting there, and I knew Al felt the same; the old castle didn't have any of the advancements of the rest of the world.

"Do you miss school?"

I shrugged. "It was our home. Do you?"

"All the time," he said, leaning forwards on the booth and reading the menu as he spoke. "But I was definitely ready to leave –"

"Hellooo!" Our waitress' voice rang out as she approached, notebook in one hand, pen in the other and overly cheery smile on her face. Not to mention, it honestly looked as though she wasn't wearing much underneath that apron.

Holy crap. Can Al's eyes _get _any bigger?

"How are you doing today?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she flipped open her book and continued. "Ready to order?"

"Erm…" I glanced at Al, who was now trying not to laugh; there were more than thirty teas on the menu, as it turned out. I turned back to the waitress. "We'll just be another minute."

"We can have scones for now, I suppose," Al put in, looking at me for confirmation. I nodded, and the brunette wrote it down with a flourish before tucking it in her apron.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything to drink?" she asked, leaning over on the side of the booth, actually _winking _at Albus. When we shook our heads, she bounced off, letting Al stare at her swinging hips. I felt a twinge of annoyance.

Shit.

I'm annoyed.

Al was completely oblivious to my discomfort, however; he went back to gazing around the room. "Did you know that all the waitresses here are female?" he asked thoughtfully before picking up the menu again.

I felt that stupid little annoyance in my stomach again and squirmed. It was like a stupid little fly, buzzing around and making me feel really sick in the pit of my stomach. Why? Because of a waitress who didn't know how to keep it in her pants.

_Shit._

What the hell is happening to me?

"That'll be…" I shook my head, trying to clear it. "That'll be the strict rule here, since the place was founded by two women from the Babington family."

"Oh." Al gave me a look. I suddenly felt a little warm in the booth; why didn't we just get a table? Unfortunately, we were stuck there, under the stupid low lighting and black squishy seats and in the corner of the room.

There is seriously something wrong with me.

"So," I said awkwardly, shutting my tour book and looking at the menu. "Any idea of what you're getting?"

* * *

I think I'm going crazy. I _swear_ Al was staring at our oh-so-wonderful waitress' _assets_ when she came to give us our food. I mean, she gave us a clear view of them, so I guess I can't blame him for looking, but I think his gaze lingered a _little _too long there. And for some reason, that's bothering me.

Yep, I'm definitely going mad.

Al's voice broke through my thoughts. "_This,_" he was saying, a look of pure glee upon his face, "is pure brilliance." My eyes lowered to our food, and I couldn't decide whether to burst into laughter or groan in frustration.

I laughed, it case you were wondering.

"Al," I said, shaking my head, both at his actions and my own. "You ordered cake? _This _was your great idea?"

What I _meant _to say is that I put up with him promising me a surprise and whispering in the stupid waitress' ear so I wouldn't hear the order so that he could order every cake on the menu?

That sneaky bastard was making me jealous on purpose.

WAIT NO I WAS _NOT _JEALOUS I TAKE THAT BACK!

… crap.

"This _is_ a great idea!" Al defended, tearing his eyes off the huge platter in between us. "I got tea, too." I looked at the tray; there was tea cake, chocolate cake, lemon cake, nutcake – even _orange _cake.

"Okay," I agreed, not bothering to try and stop my grin. "You're right. This looks amazing."

"Exactly."

"This is going to be the unhealthiest lunch I've ever had." Al was looking as though he was in heaven, and I didn't blame him.

It was _cake. _What did you expect?

"I'm sorry." The waitress was back, and I nearly growled at her. Not that I _would, _of course. "I forgot your utensils," she continued sweetly, putting them down in front of us. I tapped my foot.

Sure she did. _Sure…_

Al stared at her arse as she left.

So typical.

My stomach was dropping considerably, along with my mood; even if I knew he was trying to make me jealous, it didn't feel too great. I picked up the fork and stabbed it in the nearest slice of cake, earning a strange look from Al.

"What's up with _you_?" he asked. I shrugged and opened my book again, beginning to read out loud and try to forget that the stupid slaggy waitress was looking for any excuse to come back to the table and flirt with Al.

He was staring at me as I read, but I didn't care. "Babington's Tea Room was in the eighteenth century – _hey_!" My voice was muffled as Al leaned over the table and stuffed a piece of orange cake in my mouth. I glared at him.

"Sorry," he said, sniggering. "It slipped." I chewed and swallowed as he spoke. "If I wanted to know this stuff, I would've gone on the tour."

"Maybe we should have," I mumbled, turning to the tea pot and pouring tea in one of the cups. Al opened his mouth to answer, but the waitress took _that moment _to come back to our table, flashing her toothy grin at him.

Why. Is. She. _Here?_

"Are you alright here?" she asked, her eyes on Al. I felt the creeping sensation come back as he smiled at her and told that we were 'just fine'.

Do I _look _'fine' to you?

Oh dear Merlin, what is happening to me?

I didn't like the feeling at all. It was unpleasant and familiar, and yet I didn't understand it. I didn't have feelings for Albus, but clearly, as I had discovered, I didn't like seeing him with someone else. Especially a slaggy waitress.

This is weird. This is REALLY weird. And I don't like it.

And _I'm _the one who stopped Al from kissing me that morning. It doesn't mean he can go and flirt with waitresses in front of me, though! How is that fair at all? I have no idea how I feel, and he does _that_?

I'm feeling a strong urge to kick the boy right now.

"Okay, if you don't stop staring into space, I'm going to stuff more cake in your face." I blinked and shook my head, uneasiness still disturbing my sense. Al's expression was beyond confused.

It was a lie, though: he knew _exactly _what he was doing.

It was still kind of adorable.

… what did they put in that cake?

Al sighed at my blank expression and got up, shifting over the booth so that he was sitting beside me. I stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled the tray towards him, looking quite satisfied with the new seating arrangement.

"What was that?" I asked, my voice cracking a little. He picked up a fork.

"I like this better," he said carelessly, attention back to the food. "Maybe you won't ignore me, now. What kind of cake do you like best?"

I bit my lip, still a little confused. "I guess I don't really have a preference. But I _do_ know," I added, smiling again, "which one _you'd_like." He looked relieved that the awkwardness was breaking.

"There's no competition. Chocolate rules, vanilla lover." I laughed at that one.

"I _like _chocolate, Albus," I told him, picking up a fork as well. "It's just not my favourite." I broke off a piece of the chocolate cake and put it in my mouth. The sweetness settled my growling insides.

Al looked scandalized. "You just ate my cake," he said in disbelief.

"_Your _cake?" I ate another piece, flaunting it in front of his narrowing eyes. "Oops. I guess my fork slipped," I said innocently, mimicking his earlier statement. He opened his mouth to protest when the waitress came back.

_Again._

My smile froze as she approached us. She seemed to notice the change, because her expression twisted. "Everything all right?" she asked through gritted teeth, avoiding my glare.

"Just fine," Al replied, sliding his hand on my waist. She looked _very _put out as she left. I let out a breath.

"Dear Merlin."

"You're right," he said, leaning towards me so no one else would hear. "Let's eat faster so we can leave; she's bloody _annoying_."

And somehow, my spirits lifted.

Just like that.

Pathetic.

* * *

"It's official." We were just getting out of the Tea Room after paying a hefty amount. "Worst lunch ever."

"I beg to differ," Al cut in, voice indignant but quite amused. He kept his arm around my waist as we looked around for where to go next. "I think that was the _best _lunch I've ever had. Where are we?"

"The Spanish Steps." I looked at him as he observed the white steps and church at the top. "Widest staircase in Europe, actually."

"Did you memorize your book?"

"No," I answered, whacking him playfully. "Want to check out the fountain over there?"

"Sure," he said as I pointed to it. We began walking to the _Piazza di Spagna_ at the base of the steps, admiring the fountain called _Fontana della Barcaccia_. "I wanted to ask you something, actually."

"What was that?" I asked, sitting down at the ledge before the fountain. I put my legs up and hugged them to my chest, dropping my chin on my knees and watching as Al took his hand off my waist and took my hand, threading his fingers through it and playing with my ring.

"What do you look for in a guy?"

I laughed. "Not perfection, if that's what you were wondering."

He twisted my ring, avoiding my eyes. "Sorry for this morning."

"Albus Potter, feeling guilty?" I teased. "Don't worry about it. It was kind of funny now that I think about it."

"Emily Potter, easing up?"

"I keep forgetting that's my name," I said honestly. "And for your information, I'm only tense around you."

Wrong thing to say; his face lit up as though it were Christmas. "Really, now?"

"Don't let it get to your head?" I said uneasily, not quite sure what to say. He went silent, listening to the dripping of the fountain and watching the kids flocking around it, sticking their hands in. "You know, I hate it when guys act fake."

"That's it?"

"Well…" I bit my lip. "There are other things. But I don't look for anything specifically. It kind of just happens."

"That's for sure," he said in a low voice, faintly smiling to himself. "You're definitely not what I'm used to looking for."

"If Holly Birch is what you're used to, then I feel very fortunate." He laughed.

"Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this," he said quietly. It was the most truthful I'd seen him – like the day before, when he told me about his friend who had passed away. "The ministry, the marriage, everything. I couldn't even get my own stalker to leave me alone."

"We haven't seen her in nearly two weeks," I put in, unusually optimistic.

He laughed darkly. "Knowing her, she's planning something." I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that my hand was a little sweaty.

"I don't know why you're doing this either, but…" I shifted my fingers and squeezed his hand lightly, trying to put unsaid words in it. "Thank you." Al was watching me, chewing the inside of his cheek before he smiled.

"You'll fancy me eventually," he decided, squeezing back.

"Nah. You can have that waitress in there."

"And how does she compare to you?" I blushed, and he smirked. "She can't, hmm?"

"Shut up," I said, grinning. "I don't fancy you. You're not _that _attractive."

He sighed, holding our hands to his chest. "You're right. You took it all out of me. Thanks, Em."

"Shut up."

"I'm too difficult to resist, of course," he added as though he hadn't heard me. "One more week and I promise we'll be snogging uncontrollably in the booth over there. Probably piss off that waitress a little more."

"Didn't I just tell you I hated when guys are fake?" I asked, dramatically smacking a hand to my forehead. "It's like you're not trying at all! I'm hurt."

"That was to assure you that I pick you over that waitress." His voice was overly defensive, and I knew he was trying hard not to laugh. "I think you needed it, after being so mad at me in there. What did I do?"

Ha! I _knew _he was trying to make me jealous!

I elbowed him in the stomach, and he let out the contained laughter. "I beat you in the cake eating contest, though," he said casually, referring to the competition we came up with to get the hell out of the café.

"I was pretty close!"

"You ate all my chocolate cake."

"And it was delicious," I said brightly, patting my stomach. "I bet you couldn't go one day without eating chocolate."

He raised his eyebrows. "Want to put money on that?"

"Hell yes."

"Okay," he said eagerly. "If I win, you have to kiss me. "I mean," he said hastily by the look on my face, "let me take you out. On a date."

I snorted. He couldn't possibly win. He was _addicted _to the stuff.

"What do I get?" I asked, considering the deal.

"Satisfaction."

I laughed. "I don't think so. I want something."

"Whatever you want, then," Al said, looking confident and determined. "As long as it's reasonable, and you don't end up snogging some other bloke."

"Worried, Al?"

"Not in the slightest," he said, kissing me on the cheek. I stuck out my tongue at him.

"It starts now," I declared.

He looked taken aback. "_Now_?"

"Now," I confirmed cheerfully, taking my sweaty hand from his and wiping it on my shorts. "I already ate all your cake, didn't I?"


	17. Emily: The Curiosity

**Chapter Seventeen: Emily: The Curiosity**

DAMMIT.

I couldn't believe it. I _refused _to believe it.

"You couldn't have won," I insisted stubbornly to Al's expression. I forgot about the bet about ten minutes after we shook on it – how did _he _remember? "You're addicted to chocolate."

"You were with me all day. I didn't eat any."

"Yes, but…" Bloody hell, I couldn't have lost! Impossible! I looked around helplessly, searching through the fancy-schmancy hotel room decorations until my eyes caught the chocolate on the bed.

Or the _lack of _chocolate on the bed.

"You took it!" I said suddenly, pointing to the fluffy pillows. Al's face screwed up in confusion as his gaze followed my finger. He looked back at me, expression completely having changed from excited to utterly bewildered.

"Take _what_?"

"The chocolate that's usually on the bed."

"I did not!"

"Well, who did?"

"Maybe housekeeping just forgot," he reasoned, not quite hiding his forthcoming glee. "I swear I didn't eat any, Emily." I narrowed my eyes, not believing a single word. After that waitress thing that day, I don't know why I _should; _the boy wanted to play me!

"Turn out your pockets."

"_What_?"

"You must've put the wrapper in there," I invented wildly, grasping at straws. I stepped forward, feeling determined. "C'mon, let me see."

Al looked extremely annoyed. "There's nothing in my pockets except for my wallet. See?" he added, taking it out and holding it up. I took another step forward as he threw it onto the desk behind me, and he quickly stepped back. The back of his knees hit the bed.

"Let me see!" I repeated insistently, stepping closer.

"No – _Emily_!" I had lunged for his pockets desperately, causing him to fall back on the bed in the process. I grasped for his pockets, but he held my wrists tightly.

"What are you _doing_?"

"What does it look like? I'm trying to prove you lost!" My voice was high and unnaturally loud, but I refused to back down. I did _not _want to go on a date, especially when I had no idea why I was jealous that afternoon or what I felt about him.

No, jealousy does _not _prove feelings for someone.

"But you – _Emily._" Something in the way he said it made me stop struggling and look at him. "Not that I don't like this position, but you don't want to go out with me that badly?" I glanced down.

Shit. I was straddling him.

_And _I just felt him up.

Blush bloomed on my cheeks. "Nothing against you, Al –"

"Except it is." He didn't sound disappointed or bitter, but his eyes were filled with the emotions. I began to regret my protests; he won fair and square, didn't he? "It's just one date, Em. How bad could it be?"

"You're going on a date?"

Rose's pleased and excited voice bounded into the room before she did; she skipped in and stopped dead, her smile freezing when she saw us. I could feel more colour flushing back into my cheeks as her eyes widened. "Bad timing?"

"No," I said quickly, sliding off and sitting down beside Al. "How'd you get in here?"

"I have a key, of course," she said, scoffing as if it were obvious. "Nicked in from Al."

"So _that's _where it went –"

"You lost the key and didn't tell me?"

"So you're going on a date?" Rose cut in, instantly looking thrilled again. She looked manic and full of energy – as though she was about to bounce around the room.

Rose: the bouncy ball.

Kind of catchy, actually.

"A real date? Will it be your first one?" she continued in the same, squeal-like manner than only Rose could pull off without looking like a complete ditz. I almost didn't even want to put a damper her mood with mine, she looked so happy.

"Yes," I said dejectedly at the same time Al said, "No." We stared at each other.

What just happened?

… _wait_. I COULD'VE GOTTEN OUT OF IT?

"That's great!" Rose gushed, evidently having ignored Al.

Dammit.

"Then you can come to the spa with me, and we can get you all dolled up the date!" There were so many things wrong with that sentence; I couldn't even come up with a reply for her. The only thing that I could do was stare blankly at her and wonder if she'd gone mad.

Which she _had_, thank you very much!

Example A? Spa? I hated the spa.

Example B? Dolled up? For _Al?_Wouldn't that be leading him on?

Example C? Date? _Date_? OH, BLOODY HELL.

While I was mentally freaking out and Albus was trying not to fidget and Rose was clapping her hands together like a crazy person, Scorpius had entered the room and began laughing upon seeing my expression.

"I told you she wouldn't like it," he told Rose, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

I ignored him. "Rose, why do you want to go to the spa? Don't you want to spend time with Scorpius?"

"She loves the spa," Al interrupted, looking highly amused – probably because he sensed my hatred for the place. Or perhaps he would love that I go to a spa and actually make effort to look nice on our – _gulp _– date. "Why would Malfoy set foot in there?"

"Thanks, Potter."

"No problem."

"This is _not_a time to get along," I said crossly, and they laughed.

"The spa won't take all day, will it?" Al asked, looking back at Rose.

"Nope." Rose was now happily planning the day tomorrow; I could see it all over her face. "You can have her back by supper." I scowled; are they just _tossing_me around? "Al, you and Scorpius can have some bonding time!"

_Bonding _time?

I stifled a giggle as Al spluttered. "Doing _what_?"

Scorpius looked just as reluctant when he answered. "We're going to the gym in this hotel. I think they've installed a Quidditch Pitch, but I'm not completely sure." Al brightened considerably, and I recalled all the Quidditch posters plastered all over his room.

"So while they do that, we can go to the spa!" Rose squealed, and I laughed.

It's pretty funny when Rose gets excited, what can I say?

After we waved goodbye and they'd shut the door, I immediately threw myself back onto the bed, moaning, "I _hate _the spa." Albus chuckled as he lay beside me, brushing my bangs out my eyes.

"Me too," he agreed absent-mindedly, looking quite content as his fingers threaded through my hair. "Have fun; muggle spas are Rose's favourite."

"What the hell," I moaned, closing my eyes.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up." I peeked one eye open.

"What're _you _so happy about?" I demanded, but he just grinned mysteriously before getting up and grabbing his pajamas off an armchair.

"You just agreed to a date, didn't you?" I opened my mouth to protest, but couldn't; technically, I _had _agreed. And now I had to go through with it.

Poop.

* * *

"It's raining."

Al's voice woke me the next morning. Surprisingly enough, he decided to actually get out of bed rather than being a lazy, annoying arse and hold me until I had to use the bathroom. I stretched as I sat up.

"I kind of miss the rain," I said sleepily, digging my hands through my hair and pulling it back. "That drought lasted right until the day we came here."

"Right."

I yawned. "Good morning."

"Morning." He was distracted, standing behind the glass doors in front of the balcony. I hadn't really admired the room we were staying in; it was quite large, the bed smack in the middle. On the left was a hallway that led to the exit, but on the way branched off into a bathroom with a Jacuzzi (which we never used, because that would've been _awkward_). On the right of the bed was a giant window with usually streaming sunlight and a glass door leading to a small balcony. There were also a couple of chairs, a small couch, a desk and a television in front of the bed – something I've seen, but never really used before.

I gave a start as Al sat back down on the bed, looking dishevelled. "I wanted to go outside for our date," he explained, not looking at me.

Wow. He actually put some consideration into our date.

_Shit._

"Did you know that you have a guilty face?" he asked, cutting into my thoughts.

I snorted. _"_Excuse me?"

"It just went away," he said, grinning. "But you get this look whenever you feel guilty. What is it this time?"

I looked away. "Just that you're putting thought into a date that I don't want to go on." He laughed and leaned over closer to my side of the bed.

"This will be the best date you've ever been on," he promised, kissing my cheek softly. "Especially because you don't want to go."

"I'll hold you to that," I teased.

"Good." There was a pause.

"I should get ready for the spa," I said, throwing off the covers. "I'll meet you back here at six, I suppose."

"Sure." I leapt up from the room, unable to stand the look he was giving me. The feel of his lips was lingering on my cheek.

Dear Merlin, what was I doing?

* * *

The spa was not muggle as Al had anticipated, but a section of the hotel. There wasn't really a huge difference between a muggle one; instead of things being run on electricity, it was run on magic.

Also, hair removal didn't really hurt that much (HELL YES).

Rose was _way _too excited.

"We can get massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, hair treatment –"

"Rose," I interrupted, eyes wide. "Please tell me that's all." She grinned and slung an arm over my shoulder, steering me towards the entrance. It was a very shiny entrance, shades of light blue and green on the walls to give off a sort of calming effect.

Did I feel calm?

HELL NO!

"Fine," Rose concluded as we sat down in the waiting room. "Then we'll go shopping afterwards, I saw some great boutiques around here."

"You mean you _actually _got out of the hotel?" I teased, sporting a stunned expression to annoy her. It worked like a charm; she nudged me and blushed furiously.

"_Yes._" She picked at and inspected her nails, looking a little annoyed. "Why do you hate spas so much?"

Oh, not _this._

"It's kind of stupid," I said weakly.

"Oh, I love stupidity."

I laughed. "It's just that my old friends and I used to do this, and… it's like bringing up bad memories, you know?"

Rose surveyed me for a moment before answering, eyes narrowed and mind reeling. "That's really no reason to hate a good massage." I laughed again. "What have you and Al been doing?"

"Just sightseeing, really."

"And dating?"

"Actually," I said, rolling my eyes, "I lost a bet." I paused. "I'm almost afraid to ask what you've been doing."

She shifted in her chair, a smirk growing steadily across her face and the tips of her ears burning red. "No, probably not. We did some sightseeing too, though."

I groaned. "I don't want to hear about _that _kind of sightseeing."

"I mean the regular kind of sightseeing, too!" she insisted, and I squeezed my eyes shut – as if it would rid me of the horrible images in my mind. "But I want to talk about you and Al."

"There is no _Al and I_," I clarified, looking down at my shoes. "But he fancies me. I'm guessing you know that."

"I figured it out." Rose was full-on grinning now. "It's been ages since Al liked someone, but there's no mistaking it."

"He tried to kiss me yesterday."

"_What?_" At that moment, a masseuse had appeared, approaching us and gesturing to the inside of the spa. Rose gazed wistfully at me as we got up, and I rolled my eyes. I can never say 'no' to her when she's that eager!

"Fine," I whispered, linking our arms together. "I'll tell you everything."

* * *

"So you think you _don't _like him."

"Right."

"But you were jealous of a waitress."

"_Slaggy _waitress."

Rose sighed. "You are in denial."

"I am _not,_" I said crossly, shifting a little as the gold nail polish on my toes dried. We had just finished getting manicures and pedicures, and decided that half the fun of spas was enjoying the paint drying, so we decided to sit in our seats and shoo the employees away while we happily (that's questionable) chatted about random (Albus) stuff.

Yeah, I'm not sure what we were thinking, either.

Except Al. I can't _stop _thinking about him.

"I can't start liking someone in a few days," I thought out loud. "It's completely ridiculous."

"Ever heard of love at first sight?" she asked, wiggling her own toes, which were painted – what else? – purple. "Perhaps it's not at first sight, but it doesn't mean you can't fancy someone in just a few days."

I nodded. "Of course I have." I stared at my gold fingernails. "But I just noticed him, I've never actually seen him in that way until your wedding, when he –"

"Have you ever been in love before?" I bit my lip.

"Yeah."

"Then you know how it feels."

"It's different," I told her, shaking my head. "It feels different with Al. And the last time I was in love, it didn't end too well."

"Maybe you're just afraid of falling." Her tone was reasonable and comforting – unlike Al's, which could change at any moment, depending on what we were talking about. I never knew if we were joking or flirting, or having a moment or just plain _being._Perhaps it was why I could so easily be myself around Rose and not always Al?

Then again, people generally act different around the opposite sex.

"He makes me nervous," I admitted, staring determinedly at my nails. "I trust him one minute and then completely throw caution to the winds. He makes me laugh all the time, he cares, but everything's just..."

"I get it," Rose replied thoughtfully.

"No." I shook my head again. "You don't. Half the time it seems like he's hiding something, and it's driving me mad. But I _still _like being around him, somehow."

"Really?"

"A lot." I was blushing. I knew I was.

"Just because something doesn't make sense, it doesn't mean it's impossible," she said gently, leaning towards me from her chair. "I think that's why we get butterflies. To tell us something's different."

"I don't get butterflies."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you think nerves are, exactly?" I sat dumbfounded as she laughed, patting my arm. "Emily, I know you'll admit it eventually, but I think you're just scared of not being completely in control all the time."

"Everyone's like that, though!" I protested. She shrugged.

"Doesn't make it any less true."

"I don't believe that I can be in love after only a few days."

"Maybe it's been longer than a _few days_," she suggested logically. "And you don't have to be in _love._I definitely remember you telling me that you thought he was attractive, and that was weeks ago. I know you've been miserable about your father and the ministry and everything; you were probably just caught up in life that you didn't notice."

"Maybe." I tapped my fingers on the armrest. "It'd make more sense than anything else."

"But you want to _try_, right?" she pressed on, trying her best to persuade me.

"I promised I would," I confirmed. "I don't go back on my word."

"Then just… tell yourself to fall, Emily," she advised wisely. "I know you fancy him, but you'd be able to admit to yourself if you just gave him a chance."

"I'm honestly trying, Rose," I mumbled, biting at my lip. "I really am. I just don't know what to feel anymore, and it's bugging the hell out of me. It's why I don't want to go on this date – because I'm already so _conflicted._"

"Then just focus on what you _want _to feel. Let yourself fall."

I sighed and resisted the urge to put my fingers in my hair and mess up the drying nail polish. "Everything's just _screwed up_. I don't even know why I'm doing this, or in _Rome,_I should be trying to get my dad out of prison!" Rose narrowed her eyes at me.

"No, I don't think so."

"What do you mean you '_don't think so_'?" I repeated dumbly, feeling panicked all of a sudden. "Dear Merlin, can you believe it? I've been so busy thinking about all _this _that I completely and utterly forgot about -"

"Emily, you're being ridiculous!" Rose scolded, shouting over my rambling. "Stop it!"

"_Excuse me_? My father's in _Azkaban_-"

"And just because that's true, you can't just stop your life for him!"

I froze before deflating at her words. Is this what I was doing? Was I freezing myself in time to consume myself in worries? Were all these guilty feelings because I was just... _over thinking _everything?

Ha. Of course I was over thinking. I always over think things. It's just what I do. Call it what you will, that's exactly what I was doing. Stopping my life because my dad was in jail. He wouldn't want that.

Was I stopping myself from fancying Al because I was... _over thinking_?

Merlin, that's pathetic.

But I didn't think it was that. It was definitely more - something Rose didn't know about.

"It's not just that I'm stopping my life," I said quietly, and Rose scoffed. I looked at her, almost pleadingly. "No, really. I know you want me to fall for Albus but it's not _just _bad timing, or a baby."

"Then what is it, exactly?"

I bit my lip. "Can we just talk about something else?"

Rose sighed before grinning mischievously. "Now, about that shopping…"

* * *

After hours of the nail polishing, hair torture, a _very _relaxing back massage and trying on a million different outfits to satisfy Rose for the 'perfect dress for my date', I found myself collapsing on the bed in my empty hotel room.

Who knew the spa could be so tiring?

I stared up at the ceiling, wondering how exactly I had gotten there: in Rome on my honeymoon with a husband I was contemplating on _fancying_while my father was in prison and we were basically waiting for our life/death sentence – and I was lying there, smiling.

Yeah, I didn't get it either.

I sighed and got up, looking around the room. I spotted Al's khaki shorts he was wearing yesterday on top of the pile of his clothes on one of the armchairs (he'd been too lazy to do laundry). Curiosity struck me again; _did _he cheat?

I wasn't quite sure I wanted to know. I didn't really want to know the extent of which he fancied me – too little or too much – because I think I'd only feel worse, either way. Al deserves so much better.

Too bad I'm too curious not to check.

I snuck over to the armchair and picked up the shorts, plunging my hands through every single pocket. It was almost as if I _wanted _to find something, and at the same time, not at all. I was beyond confused. Digging through his shorts was not helping.

In the end, I came up empty-handed.

Nothing. At all.

No chocolate wrappers whatsoever.

I groaned as I threw the shorts back onto the chair, not sure whether to smile or cry in frustration. He didn't cheat. He went a whole freaking day without his _addiction _(sort of). He loved chocolate, and he gave it up for _me._

Dear Merlin, the boy really wanted this date.

Dammit.


	18. Emily: The Fall

**Chapter Eighteen: Emily: The Fall**

I was spluttering as soon as Al walked through that door. I'm so classy, don't you think?

Example:

"Am I overdressed? Rose made me wear this even though I'm not sure what we're doing and I never wear stuff like this so it's kind of awkward and _I'mgoingtostoptalkingnow_."

This _nervous _thing has been taken to new levels.

Al shut the door of the room behind him and regarded me amusedly, sweeping his eyes over the Stupid Pink Dress, as I had named it. I felt jittery and self-conscious and all kinds of seething – at Rose. I don't think she realized how weird this made me feel. Skirts were okay. Dresses made me want to kick something.

I did have a tendency for that, didn't I?

"Emily?" I looked up from the Stupid Pink Dress to see Al grinning at me, albeit a little tiredly, but happily just the same. "Calm down. _Breathe._"

I exhaled. "I _am _breathing."

"Good. I'd like my date alive."

"Don't you think I'd be more enjoyable if I was dead?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "We don't have to do this if you really don't want to," he said politely, emptying the contents of his pockets on the desk. I sucked in a sharp breath and cast aside my nerves.

Or, you know, tried to.

"No." I shook my head. "I lost the bet. You won this date fair and square. I don't mind."

I can do this. I WILL SURVIVE.

Great, now I'm giving myself pep talks.

Al brightened considerably at my refusal, making me feel just a little bit better about everything. "Well, that's good then! This'll be fun."

"Good," I echoed, shifting from one foot to the other. He opened his bag carefully and took out a pink tulip. My stomach flipped as he strode over to me, looking a little embarrassed, but happy all the same. One hand went around my waist in a sort of hug, dropping his forehead onto mine.

"Let's try this again?" he asked quietly. My eyes were on the tulip in between us. "Hey."

"Ummm." I tried to clear my mind, but my stomach had decided to do somersaults instead. He pressed the flower in my trembling hand. "How was the gym?"

"Not bad. Amazing Quidditch stadium." I kept my gaze away from his searching eyes and focused on the tulip instead. "How was the spa?"

"It was… _good,_surprisingly," I answered, and he grinned. "A little tiring, but I guess that was more the shopping. Rose made me try on at least ten different outfits in every boutique we went to."

"She would do that," he said, chuckling. "You look nice. I think Rose failed me, though; you look more modest than anything Rose would wear on a date."

I scowled. "Gee, thanks –"

"You also look really relaxed," he cut in.

"_Relaxed_?" I didn't _feel_ relaxed; my heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty and I could feel those stupid _butterflies _Rose was blabbering on and on about. "Really? Maybe it was the massage."

"Perhaps." Al shifted and his breath hit my cheeks. I instantly froze: he smelled of alcohol.

"You've been drinking?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Only a little," he said immediately, straightening up. "Scorpius and I went to the bar after Quidditch. He drank a lot more than I did."

"Oh." I felt very uneasy, now; why on earth would he drink before a date? Didn't he want this? And if he was drunk, I wouldn't have a _clue _how to handle him. "You're not drunk, are you?"

"No." I gave a sigh of relief, and he laughed.

"Good. I've never really tried alcohol," I said truthfully, moving away from him and fingering the stem of the tulip. Al looked very surprised.

"Why not? You're of age."

"I just never liked the idea of losing control," I confessed, not looking at him. "I know it doesn't make much sense, but it's probably too late to try now. Anyway," I said quickly before he could intervene, "what are we doing tonight?"

An apologetic smile was making his way onto Al's face. "I don't think it'll get more romantic than this," he told me, gesturing to the tulip. "My plans have been foiled by the rain." He laughed again as I very visibly eased up.

I put the tulip onto the desk and turned back to him, lips twitching. "Then what exactly _are _we doing?"

* * *

As it turned out, I _was _overdressed. When Al found out it was raining, he decided to make the date inside our room rather than ducking through the pouring rain from building to building, helplessly clutching at our umbrellas and melting into pathetic little puddles.

Whoops, got a little carried away.

But Al had planned our date as honestly the most innocent setup I've ever seen – and I was glad. I didn't really like dramatic romantic gestures, this allowed fewer chances of awkward first-date situations. It seemed that Al agreed with my whole-heartedly about this no-cheesy-shit policy.

Though it _was _a nice flower.

(Shhh.)

Al had housekeeping teach him how to set up a device (wasn't sure what it was called) connected to the television so that it would play a moving picture with sounds. It seemed pretty lame if you asked me, but we were stuck with it.

And for dinner? Room service.

I rather like this idea. Plus, it's the first date I've ever been on that I've worn pajamas.

"So what _is _this, anyway?" I asked, holding up a small, rectangular case made out of plastic, roughly the size of a book. "Titanic?"

"It's a movie," he explained, examining the black box connected to the television by thin, black wires. "It's sort of like seeing a story instead of reading it, in around two hours."

"I feel as if that ruins your imagination."

"Maybe." He grinned and took the case out of my hands. I watched from where I was sitting at the edge of our bed as he opened it, took out a circular, mirror-like shiny object the size of his hand.

"What's that?"

"It's called a disc," he said absently-mindedly, staring at the black box in confusion. "I'm supposed to put this _in_ the player, but I don't know…" He poked the box. "_How._"

I slid off the bed and landed on my knees beside him, examining the so-called 'player'. It all looked foreign to me – all these random lights and buttons everywhere. "Maybe we have to press one of these buttons?"

He looked blankly at me. "What buttons?"

"These things," I said, pressing the closest shiny black one. "See – _eep!"_My hands jumped backwards as some sort of platform sprung out of the device. Al laughed. "What the hell?"

His laughter died as a look of recognition came across his face. He peered at the now open slow and black platform sticking out of it with mild curiosity – and the next thing I knew, he'd placed the disc onto the platform and pressed the button again.

I stared at it in disbelief as it slid back into the box, disc and all. "Albus, I'm pretty sure it just _swallowed _the disc!" He laughed again and stood up, pulling me onto my feet.

"I think that's what you're supposed to do," he explained between chuckles, pushing me so I was sitting back on the bed again. I glanced back at the television, which was now bearing the title '_Titanic_.' "See?"

What do ya know, he was right!

Al searched the box again and pressed another button. The next thing I knew, the screen had _changed._

"Whoa," I said in awe. This was seriously amazing. "Muggles actually came up with this stuff?"

"Yeah," he replied, equally impressed. He joined me as I lay on my stomach, elbows propped up. He took the same position, peering at me. "Do you like it?"

"I do." I couldn't take my eyes off the screen as it kept changing. "The _Titanic _was a ship, was it not?"

Al shifted closer to me. "Yeah. It was a tragedy, actually; they thought it was unsinkable until it hit an iceberg, and well…"

"Sunk," I supplied helpfully. His lips twitched.

"Exactly. They didn't have enough lifeboats."

I frowned at the screen. "Does it make a good horror story?" I asked skeptically. Al shrugged.

"The guy at the front desk it's famous and won tons of awards, so it oughta be good enough."

"Whatever floats your boat." Al burst out laughing at my obvious pun, and I slammed a hand to my forehead. "I… shit, I mean –"

"It's okay," he assured, taking my hand. "Hungry yet?"

* * *

"You always do this, don't you?"

"Do _what_?"

"Order more food than we can eat!" I peeked at the second shelf of the cart and laughed harder. "Look at this, Al; why the hell would anyone order this much food for two people? There's got to be fifteen different dishes here!"

"You said you were starving!" he accused teasingly, emerging from the bathroom and spreading towels on the bed. "Forgive me for trying to satisfy that."

"Even _you _don't have an appetite this big," I countered, still checking through the cart. There were five different kinds of pasta, heaps of pizza, salads, breads and stuff I didn't even recognize.

SO. MUCH. ITALIAN. FOOD.

I think I'm really going to like this meal.

You know, if I can ever finish it.

"First cake for lunch, and now this." I shook my head and started helping him setting food down on the bed since there wasn't enough room on the table. "I'm starting to think you're trying to fatten me up."

"I couldn't if I tried!" he protested, reaching over and poking me in the stomach, making me giggle. We finished putting stuff on the bed and tried to find a place to sit on the bed, deciding to squish our pillows with our bums.

"It's not as if I could bring a buffet here," Al added.

"So instead, you buy just about a million meals off the menu?" He shrugged as we began to uncover the dishes.

"Our parents are paying for it."

"Spoiled rich kid."

"Shut up," he said playfully, grinning sheepishly at me before putting a hand on his heart. "I swear to Merlin that I am _not _trying to fatten you up."

I let out a dramatic gasp and forced my eyes to bug out. "You mean you're_ not _trying to eat me?"

"I didn't say _that._" I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh as I turned back to the food. We'd completely forgotten about the movie; it kept playing as we wrapped the many dishes lying on the bed, steaming and wafting wonderful smells around the room.

Um, hello? We were _surrounded_ by food. How can you _not _be happy?

"So what _is _this?" I asked as Al tugged a slice of pizza from one of the plates and chomped into it. I reached over and tapped a rather large loaf of bread that was shaped oddly. I poked my fork at it and found that it was hollow.

"I dunno," Al answered with a full mouth, narrowing his eyes at it. "Is it any good?"

"Dunno…" I broke off a piece of the corner and popped it in my mouth. "Not bad. Oh, it's a _michetta_," I realized, reading the name off the label plastered to the tray.

"Hmm."

I swallowed and sat up, my eyes growing wider and wider. "Dear Merlin, I don't know what else to pick."

Al shrugged. "Try the _cannelloni_, I've had that before."

This went on for a while – pointing out the different foods, trying them out, determining which ones were good and which ones… well, let's just say they were pushed to the edge of the bed. As it turned out, Al's 'buffet' idea was more enjoyable than watching the movie.

Strangely enough, I was having a good time.

I don't know why I was so surprised; despite our few spats, some grabby Italian men and a slaggy waitress, I _was_ having fun on this honeymoon. Even if I had lost a bet and was on a date I didn't really want to be on and were _still _waiting for the sentence from the ministry, we were okay for now. We were somehow depending on each other for our sanity.

That's a scary thought.

"Want to try this? Emily?" Al waved a hand in front of my face and I jumped, sending my plate flying and tipping the tray in front of me onto my lap.

That's a lot of pasta sauce.

"Are you okay?" he asked immediately, though I could see he was trying hard not to laugh. He picked the tray off my legs as I sat there, dumbfounded by exactly how much food just splattered everywhere. "That wasn't too hot, was it?"

I swiped my finger across my sauce-covered knee and stuck it in my mouth. "Not bad," I commented lightly after my finger left my lips with a light _pop._He laughed and mimicked my actions.

"You're right. By the way," he added cheerfully, stretching his hand across the bed to pick up a small, twisted piece of bread that looked like a pretzel. "This is _tarallini. _It's good, you should try it." But instead of holding it out for me like I had expected, he put it straight in my mouth.

I nearly jerked in surprise, but his gaze was so insistent that I ate it quietly, trying to refrain from letting my eyes widen into the size of dinner plates. I noticed his eyes weren't leaving my lips. He slowly tensed and retracted his hand, noticing the awkward silence.

"Did you… did you like it?" he asked tentatively. I nodded, still chewing on the bread.

Oh dear, this boy did _not _like awkwardness.

And neither did I, so let's get rid of it!

"Oi, Al." He looked up to see me flicking a sauce-covered piece of pasta at him. Specifically, onto the middle of his white t-shirt that he was wearing. Did I mention pasta sauce is a bitch to clean, and that I have a _very _good aim?

Hey, you don't play Quidditch for three years to get _nothing _out of it.

He looked at his shirt in disbelief, pulling on it so he could look at it properly. In this time, I took the opportunity to throw a piece of cannelloni at him, hitting his glasses and making him splutter. I started laughing, I couldn't help it; he just looked so shocked that I would do something like that. I'm guessing he forgot that I was sorted into Slytherin.

"Oops," I said, grinning mischievously and sucking sauce off my fingers.

And then the next thing I knew, we were having a full-blown food fight. Food was flying everywhere – on the bed, onto the walls, falling on the floor, in my hair, on my clothes, even down my bra (_boys_…). We were laughing and flinging everything we could lay our hands on with wild abandon, not really caring because we ordered _way_ more than we could eat and it was _fun._

Then suddenly, without even knowing how it happened, Al had pinned me to the bed, hands on my wrists on either side of my head, him hovering over me and still laughing. I was starting to pant as I realized I had lost.

"Fine, you win this one," I gasped out, my head falling backwards on a pillow.

"I _always _win."

"Cocky bastard."

"You love it."

Our laughter was slowly dying as we realized where we were, how _close_ we were. It wasn't anything I wasn't used to, but this time, I _felt _it – and not just the olives pressing into my back, or the sauce dripping down my leg. Everywhere he was touching me was tingling: my wrists where his hands were, his knee bumping against mine, his breath and how it was lightly hitting my face.

He was leaning closer, and for once, I didn't feel like I was claustrophobic or that I was guilty or that some sickening feeling was gathering in my stomach or that it was just plain _wrong_. It wasn't even a surprise that his breath was pushing against my lips, his green eyes focused on them, our chests so close that I could feel my heart going insane against his. It wasn't a surprise to me, really, the question he whispered:

"Can I kiss you?"

Rose's theory was creeping its way back into my mind, and it wouldn't stop repeating once it got there. '_Maybe you're afraid of falling.'_ I was. I stared at his eyes that couldn't move from my lips, and thought that maybe, _just maybe,_ it was okay to fall. Maybe I should just listen to Rose for once, and just '_let myself fall._'

And there in the moment, emotions were swirling around us like I _was _falling. There was absolutely no denying the fact that I loved being around him, that I loved the crazy heart pounding, the sweaty palms, all the blushing. I was free falling, and was freaking terrified.

But for some reason, I liked it. I _wanted _it.

For some, inexplicable reason, I wanted Al to kiss me.

So I said it. Just let the words flow out of my mouth without thinking.

"No."

… _what_?

The moment broke; Al blinked several times as my response registered in both ours minds. His eyes shifted to mine before his expression contorted, and I was stuck wondering what I had just said.

Why the _hell _had I said 'no'?

He lifted himself off me slowly, and I laid there awkwardly, still breathing hard from the adrenaline. I wanted to take it back, rewind back to when he asked and not bother to answer, just grab him and snog him to death. Dear Merlin, I _wanted _that moment back, and really badly, but it was gone.

This is so bloody unfair.

My heart rate slowed well before I got up. Al wasn't looking at me, but sitting on the edge of the bed and staring blankly at the floor. He was probably wondering the same thing I was: _why _exactly had I confused? This was a date, for Merlin's sake.

Perhaps I was more afraid than I thought.

Oh, screw it. I WANT HIM TO GET BACK HERE.

And _now _would be preferable.

I sat up and Al gave a start. We looked at each other, my expression apologetically and longingly, but he obviously didn't get the message. "We should probably clean up," he said, standing and holding a hand out for me so I could get up.

"Sure," I managed to squeak, making my way towards the desk to get my wand. "What –"

"Emily, wait." I spun around, but Al wasn't looking at me as he spoke, conflicted with all sorts of emotions. His jaw was tense and his eyes were cold, but I could see it. Hell, I _felt _it: he was guilty.

"I'm sorry," he continued, still not looking in my direction. His voice was broken and resigned. "You told me yesterday that I was going too fast, and now…" He ran a hand through his hair, leaving a streak of sauce through it. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

And I shouldn't have _wanted _it… but I did.

"It's okay." Without really thinking about it, I walked over and slipped my arms tightly around him. He seemed surprised. "Really. I don't mind. I might be a little hungry, though."

His laughter vibrated through his chest. "You know, you can't just think you'll get away with this," he whispered into my hair.

"Get away with what?"

"Doing _this _every time you tell me not to kiss you."

"What are you –" I cut off as he swooped down to press his lips against my cheek, pulling me closer to him.

Damn, he knew I was doing that?

After a shocked moment, I let him go, blushing and laughing nervously. I was sure we were both internally sighing with relief; I didn't want to stop enjoying this date, and it was quite clear that he didn't, either.

"I'll help," I said quickly before things could become awkward again. I ran to my bag and whipped out my wand. "Do you know any household spells?"

* * *

Wow. For two teenagers who had House Elves look after them for most of their lives, we were pretty good at cleaning. That is, when we _wanted _to clean. After removing every trace of food from the bed, the floor, the walls and the furniture, we stacked the dishes in the tray and siphoned off the towels on the bed. Then the food.

We're pretty damn good at this.

After showering and whatnot, we had begun focusing on the movie again. I haven't a _clue _to what we missed – last thing I knew, Jack and Rose were obviously flirting and falling in love and all that crap, and when we came back to it, the ship was sinking.

"What is she _doing_," I deadpanned, not believing what I was seeing.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"She can't freaking swim, and she's going down there anyway."

"Aren't you supposed to travel _up _when a ship is sinking?"

"Rose, if you don't whack him with that axe, _I will._"

Al laughed and held me closer to him. I don't exactly remember when we got to this position, pillows against the headboard, my head somehow moving off the pillow and onto his chest and his arms wrapping around me, but I wasn't complaining.

I was '_letting myself fall_.'

See? I'm trying!

Oh, screw trying, I've succeeded.

"You know what's so weird?" I asked, leaning my head up to look at him. "The fact that their names are 'Rose' and 'Jack'. It could just as easily be 'Scorpius' – I mean, they're both blond, too!"

Al wrinkled his nose. "I think it's _weird _to be watching a love story with my cousin's name in it."

"At least they didn't have sex."

"They probably did."

"At least you didn't watch it."

"_Stooop,_" he moaned, digging his face into the top of my head as I giggled. His words came out muffled. "I don't need to be getting images in my head of my bloody cousin doing _that_. _Please._"

"Fine, fine." I huffed dramatically, taking hold of his hand. "Look, they got out…" I trailed off, eyes widening. "You said there weren't enough lifeboats." Al didn't say anything; our eyes were mesmerized by the screen.

My smile was falling; this was _awful_. It was so unlike the rest of the movie – people were jumping off the sinking ship into the water, people were being denied access on the lifeboats, mothers and children were being separated, fathers were saying goodbye to their families.

My voice was shaky when I spoke. "They're going to get hypothermia…"

"This is the healing side of you coming out, isn't it?" he joked, but only barely; he was still staring at the screen in shock. "Forget hypothermia; they're drowning…"

"This… Al, turn it off," I said firmly, moving out of his way and turning away from the television. "What kind of story has a sad ending?" He chuckled and pressed one of the buttons beneath the screen before turning off the lights and climbing back into bad.

"Maybe a realistic one?" I stiffened. Al turned me around and let his hand rest on back before pulling me towards him. "Do you want to talk about something else?" he asked, sensing how bothered I was feeling. I nodded.

"Yeah."

"I had a good time tonight," he whispered. I smiled and settled myself into his side.

'_Let yourself fall.'_

"Me too." There was another period of silence, but it wasn't awkward; it almost warm, in a sense. It was the kind of silence that wraps and tugs at your mind, begging you to sleep while wanting the stay awake at the same time.

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"I know this wasn't really what any of us had in mind," he said softly, using that same tone that I recognized as his being completely and utterly honest. "Not just this date, I mean. The whole situation has just kind of been screwed up, and I just wanted to help."

"You have been."

"I'd like to think that." He laughed shakily and pulled me closer to him. "I just… I didn't mean to make things worse. I just kind of figured out I fancied you, at the worst time ever, and I hung onto it because it feels different than usual."

I nodded. "It's definitely different."

"How?" It was almost as if he didn't exactly know what he was feeling, either. "Do you know?"

I bit my lip. "I think, for me, it's because _you're _different. My last relationships were with guys I barely knew, or was only just attracted to. Sometimes it was simple, sometimes messy. This one is different."

"What?"

"I think it's because you're more than just some guy I knew. You're more than that."

He exhaled, evidently very confused. "Who _am _I to you?" I turned him, mustering the little courage I had to look him straight in the eye.

"You're my friend."

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to my forehead, not letting go for a long time. I could sense that something had passed between us, something silent that pushed our fears together, unspoken words and unrevealed secrets within them.

And there ended the best date I've ever been on.


	19. Albus: The Grin

**Chapter Nineteen: Albus: The Grin**

I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about; I am _not _snooping.

Okay, maybe a little.

To be fair, it's not _really _snooping; I've seen all the stuff in Emily's handbag plenty of times. It's just things like her wand, wallet, tour guide, maps, blah, blah, blah. Now, if she kept a diary, _that _would be interesting.

But she doesn't. Poop.

I shifted through her things and found myself flipping through her wallet. There wasn't much, really; a couple of galleons, sickles and knuts here and there, a card for what looked to be a muggle library and a muggle identification card.

I started at it – not her _picture; _if I wanted to stare at Emily, I'd just have to turn my head and creepily watch her sleep. No, I was looking at the information – the address of her parents' house, her phone number, some other random stuff and her date of birth.

Bloody hell. _July_ _28th. _That's tomorrow! Why didn't she tell me?

I jumped as I heard a soft knock on the door. Hastily shoving Emily's things back in her bag, I opened the door – and was immediately attacked by an embrace. I chuckled and stepped back, seeing Rose, fluffy slippers and all.

"How was it?" she squealed loudly, hugging me again.

"Shh!" I whispered, clamping a hand on her back and one of her mouth. "Emily's still sleeping." Rose seemed to find this even more exciting than seeing me, since she practically tore my arm off in the act of dragging me out of my room.

See what I do for family?

Rose shut my door and stood before me, a huge, sleepy smile on her face. I narrowed my eyes at her, immediately suspicious. "What're _you _so happy about?" I demanded, making her grin grow even wider.

That's a little creepy, actually...

"Your _date_!" she exclaimed, bouncing around me, poking me in the ribs, tugging at my arm and generally being very annoying. "Come on, Al, tell me all the details!"

"_What _details?" I asked, cowering and trying to swat her off of me like a little fly. I resisted the urge to poke her back; she was murderous when poked. "Rose, there's really -"

"C'mon, Al, tell me _something_!" I rolled my eyes and straightened up.

"Want to get some tea?"

"Yes. But _Al_-"

"There's not much to tell," I told her as we made our way down the hall and to the stairwell. "We ate food, watched one of those muggle movies and went to bed. What else is there?"

Rose had a sly look on her face. "I heard you tried to kiss her the day before. Did you try again? Did you -"

"Well, yeah - _whoa_!"

"Aww, Al has a crush!" Rose squealed, pouncing on me and nearly knocking us down two flights of stairs. I wrinkled my nose.

"You're really annoying, did you know that?"

"But you love me anyway." She sighed happily and jumped on my back - right in the middle of the staircase. I nearly stumbled and resisted the urge to drop her as she slipped her arms around my neck.

"Rose, I am _not _carrying you."

"For old times sake?"

"James and Teddy carried you, not me!"

"Just do it before I kick you." I groaned and shakily made my way down more steps as she jabbered on in my ear. "So tell me more about your date!"

"What _else_is there?"

"Everything!" She smacked the back of my head. "I swear, if you don't tell me, I'll ask Emily and make sure she knows that you're a horrible date."

I snorted. "Fine, go ahead. Go be girly with _her._" Rose sighed in exasperation, muttering something that sounded discreetly like '_boys'_. "Rose," I asked wearily, kicking the door open, "why are you so interested in my dates _now_? I've gone on plenty of dates before."

"But you've never actually been interested in the girl," she explained as though it were the most obvious statement in the world. "So of course it'd be different."

"I fancied Holly when I first went out with her," I pointed out. Rose slid off my back and I straightened up, heading towards the hotel dining room. "Remember?"

She groaned. "Single most embarrassing moment of my life."

"Same here," I agreed, grinning.

"You were in fifth year and stupid, though," she declared as we entered the room. "At least, more stupid than you are now."

"Thanks, Rose." My eyes wandered around the large room; white table-cloths covered the tables. All sorts of wizards were around, mostly sleepy, some still in their pajamas, like Rose and I; there were a very few families eating breakfast, as it was still six o'clock. Buffet tables lined the room.

I followed Rose to the nearest table, gathering two mugs and pouring boiling water in them. She looked up at me as she handed me the teapot. "You didn't tell Emily about Holly, did you?"

"There's nothing to tell."

Rose read through my cool, aloft voice. "That's absolute bullshit, Albus. Do you know what Em told me?"

"What?"

"Pour your tea," she replied with a grin, and I rolled my eyes. "No, she knows you're hiding something from her. You haven't fooled her yet."

"I wasn't trying to!" I said defensively, putting the teapot down and turning to the pot of sugar. "I swear, Rose; she doesn't need to know. It's all in the past."

"It'll come back to bite you in the butt, and you'll be sorry."

"It _won't._"

"I want you guys to be happy!" she protested, taking the sugar from me and dumping in a couple of spoons. "I'm sure she'd want to know."

"It doesn't even matter anymore!" I was now concentrating determinedly on the milk, pouring in the right amount. "Honestly Rose, just forget it."

"Fine," she said. She took her turn with the milk. "Did the date go well, either way?"

I shrugged, still avoiding her eyes. "It was all right."

She looked at me properly before squealing in delight. I gestured towards some sleepy onlookers, but she ignored them, grabbed our mugs, set them on the table and threw her arms around me. "Do you _know _how big you smile is right now?"

"No - get _off, _Rose!" I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away. She sighed happily, looking so content that I couldn't help but let my grin grow wider. "Rose, you look like you really want to say something."

"You're so _cute_," she cooed, reaching over and pinching my cheek.

"Who are you, my mother?"

"Shut it, Al." We picked up our mugs and left the room. "You might be happy to hear this, though."

"Hear what?"

"Emily will kill me."

"Now I _have _to know, don't I?"

Rose laughed. "She really likes spending time with you."

My stomach felt oddly warm; it was a new feeling, really, and I was still trying to get used to it. "Does she?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light and nonchalant as I sipped my tea. However, I forgot that it was Rose, and she could read through all my actions.

Damn that grin of hers.

"Despite," she added, "the fact that she knows you're hiding something from her. You're pretty much driving her mad."

I didn't answer. I didn't need to; Rose squealed again.

Dammit. I need to work on hiding my happiness.

"I guess... that's a good thing, right?" I asked, trying to resist the urge to skip every other step of the stairs we had begun climbing. "I mean, not that she's going mad, but just that she still -"

"You guys are _so _sweet together," she told me, not listening to a word I was saying.

I rolled my eyes. "How're you and Malfoy getting along, then? Did you manage to get out of your hotel room?"

Rose pouted, blush creeping onto her cheeks as we reached our floor. "Shut up. Why did you guys go to the bar yesterday, anyway?"

Crap. I was hoping she wouldn't bring that up.

"To talk."

"About?"

"Stuff."

"Like?"

"Quidditch. Weather. Work."

"Emily?"

"Yup."

"Scorpius was really drunk when you brought him back," she put in, looking very annoyed. "Thanks for that. He passed out before dinner!"

I smirked. "Whoops."

She mimed pouring tea on me before glaring at me, straight in the eye. "Were you drunk?"

"Of course not!" I exclaimed, looking affronted and putting a hand to my chest, faking offence. "You wound me, really. What kind of person do you think I am?"

She sighed. "Why the hell would you drink before your date?"

"To give Malfoy some company?"

"Lies."

I groaned. "All right, all right, I was nervous. She wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't smelled it on me." I looked at Rose as we reached the door, suddenly stern. "Don't tell her that, okay?"

"You know how I love to gossip," she said mischievously, sipping from her mug. "It's like you don't know me at all."

"I mean it, Rose."

"All right, keep your hairnet on." She kissed my cheek and pushed at her door, which was still unlocked. "See you later, Al."

"Oh, wait," I said suddenly, touching her shoulder. "It's Emily's birthday tomorrow. What do I give her?"

She blinked. "It's her birthday? She didn't say anything."

"Yeah, I'm not really sure why not..." I trailed off as Rose shrugged and opened the door. "Wait, I don't know what to get her!"

"How am _I _supposed to know?" I shot her the finger as she stuck her tongue out at me and slammed the door in my face.

I don't know why I put up with her, sometimes.

You can't pick your family.

* * *

_Shit, _how can you look at Emily and not want to snog her?

I. AM. DEPRIVED.

I put down my mug on the desk and climbed back under the covers with her. Our date was freaking amazing - not that I'd ever admit it to Rose. I'd never been in a food fight on a date, or laughed so hard at a movie (mostly because of Emily). I hoped she would agree when I asked her out again.

But if I see another Italian pretty boy grab her arse, I'm going to pummel him to the ground.

I faced her and tried to stop staring at her lips. That's literally what I did half the time on this honeymoon - they were just so damn tempting! How is that even fair? She said she wanted to take it slow, and I'm _fine _with that, but I have a feeling it has to do with her ex. I want to know what's going on so badly.

I tore my eyes away from her mouth - and immediately, they wandered down her shirt. That's another daily occurrence for me... but it's not my fault! It's just staring at me in the face! What's a bloke to do with a fit bird looking bloody amazing all the time?

Not. Helping.

I shook my head and turned around. It's stupid to be so satisfied without getting a snog.

I was drifting back to sleep when I heard a loud moan from behind me. I whipped around and saw Emily clawing at her ears with her hands, eyes clenched tightly shut. She was shaking as she began to speak, muttering words that sounded like 'no' and 'please'.

She screamed, snapping me out of shock. I quickly put my hands to her sides and shook her, but she wasn't waking. Shit. "Emily, wake up, _please_..." She curled more tightly into herself, and I started shaking harder. Beads of sweat appeared on her brow. I took out my wand, still unwilling to use it. "Wake _up_- Emily?"

Her eyes had snapped open so suddenly, I was shocked into stillness. She didn't stop shaking as she stared at me, terrified eyes travelling from my wand to me. In those few moments, we only stared at each other, in complete silence. I noticed she wasn't breathing.

And another moment later, she flung herself at me.

I dropped my wand and caught her mostly on reflex; what happened? Her body was warm, too warm, and still trembling. I could feel her heart pounding madly against my chest, and the next thing I knew, something wet was soaking the shoulder of my shirt.

"What the..." I pulled her back; her face was red and blotchy and covered in tears. "Emily, why -"

"You're okay." It came out in a whisper. Our eyes were locked together; I could see so much fear in them. What had she dreamed to scare her like this? "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," she whispered again, and buried her face back into my chest.

Bloody hell, now she's scaring _me._

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" I whispered gently, shifting so that she was sitting more comfortably on my legs. "What happened?" Her hands travelled from my shoulders to around my middle.

"You..." Emily shuddered and pressed her lips tightly together, shaking her head. I looked down at her as more tears leaked out and fell in her lap.

"Okay," I said softly, kissing her forehead. "Merlin, Em, don't cry. It's your birthday tomorrow!"

She didn't seem to hear me. "Al, you're an idiot."

"What? How?"

"You're _such _an idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid..."

"Is this some insane way of making you feel better?"

"Of course not. _This _is making me feel better."

"What is?" She squeezed me a little, and I felt that warm feeling spread from my stomach to all over my body.

Oh. _That._

Emily sniffed and moved her head back to my shoulder. "I have a confession to make. Since you've already made so many."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Is it bad?"

She laughed lightly, sounding a little stuffed up. "No."

"Oh." I relaxed. "What is it?"

"You're giving me butterflies."

… well. I wasn't exactly sure what to say to that.

And then I realized _exactly _what she was telling me.

I cleared my throat, resisting the urge the urge to pull her face towards mine; I'd come to love making her blush. "I have a confession, too."

"Do you?"

"Your confession makes me extremely happy."

"That doesn't count!" she protested, and I could tell she was smiling.

"Why not?"

"I already knew that it would make you happy. That's why I said it."

This girl is going to be the death of me.

She sniffed again and wiped her face. "Confess something real."

"Okay." I racked my brain as I absent-mindedly dug my hand through her hair, but the only thing I could think of was... "You smell really nice."

She laughed. "You've been _sniffing _me?"

"I believe that comes as part of the confession," I said stiffly, wishing that I didn't have word vomit coming out of me. Emily took a deep breath in through her nose.

"Oh," she said, surprised. "You smell nice, too."

"That's good, I guess."

"A bit like pasta sauce."

"Thanks."

"This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had." I laughed.

"Ready to tell me about your dream?" I asked, moving her off of me. She shook her head and blushed, evidently having realized what had just happened.

"I'll probably just keep that to myself," she told me.

"Oh, c'mon."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll make you tea."

"No you won't, you'll get it from the dining room."

"I'll buy you whatever you want."

"No thanks."

"I'll kiss you."

"No need to threaten me, now." I laughed and leaned over, placing my hands on her hips.

"You're right, I'll probably just do it anyways." She blushed again and I kissed her left cheek. Then her right. On her forehead and on her nose. I could hear her breathing become shallow as my lips made their way down her jaw, then dipping to her neck. As I hovered above her lips, I felt her hands pushing on my chest.

Damn. _So close._

I mean, I probably should've asked, like on our date. I just kind of forgot most of the time. And then there was that whole thing that she wasn't ready, but I kind of figured that if she finally fancied me (hell yes!), then I should just go for it and if she doesn't want to kiss me, she'll stop me.

In other words: screw being a gentleman.

"Not yet," she breathed. Her chest was going up and down and her cheeks were flushed a deep red, looking even more attractive than she usually does. I groaned in frustration - but I _did _notice the change.

'_Yet._' That means she'll let me kiss her _sometime _soon, right?

Bloody hell, she wants me.

"Wipe that grin off your face," she snapped, and I laughed again. She moved my hands off her hips (whoops, maybe my hands were a _little_low, there...) before looking back up at me. "How do you know about my birthday?"

"Why didn't you mention it?" I countered.

She shrugged. "I guess I just didn't feel like celebrating. But how did you find out?"

"You first. I want to know about your dream."

"I'm _not _telling you."

"Aw, come on," I whined childishly, making her smile. "Why not?"

"Because you're a creeper and somehow know about my birthday," she declared, making me scowl. She lay back on the bed and pulled the covers over herself before turning her back towards me.

"_Fine._" I didn't want to tell her I was snooping in her bag, because that _is _sort of creeper-ish. But I was just bored and couldn't sleep! It's not that strange! "Rose told me."

"How would _she _know?"

"Malfoy?" I said tentatively, very annoyed that I was speaking to her back. Luckily, Emily turned back to raise her eyebrows at me, amusement visible in her features.

Shit, how did she know I was lying?

"Scorpius can't remember dates for his life. It's why he lost his last three girlfriends before Rose." My face fell with defeat, muttering nonsense until Emily peered at me, trying very hard not to laugh. "Al, tell me."

"I looked at your ID," I mumbled out. She rolled her eyes and lay back down, facing me this time.

"You're really stupid if you think that's going to upset me."

"If your dream upset you so much, why won't you just tell me?" I asked almost rudely, pushing my limits. "Come on, you can't just expect that that I won't ask when you're screaming in your sleep one minute, crying when you're awake and scared -"

"I wasn't _scared _-"

"Emily," I interrupted, rolling my eyes. "You'll feel better if you tell me."

"I doubt that."

"I don't."

"Of _course _not," she grumbled, turning around again. "Bloody confidence."

I laughed. "You're going to tell me sometime," I teased, lying back down as well. "I hope you know that."

"No, I don't think I will."

"Yes, you -"

"Oh, shut up and let me sleep." To my surprise, she darted over to me and snuggled her back into my chest, grabbing my hands in hers and relaxed. I smiled and pressed my lips against her hair.

See? I told you she wants me.


	20. Albus: The Drink

**Chapter Twenty: Albus: The Drink  
**

It was her birthday and I still didn't know what to give her.

Whoops.

The day before, Emily and I decided to do our own sort of tour in Rome since I hated tour guides with a passion. It gave me a full day to think of what to get her, but in the end, I _still _hadn't decided. Bloody bird was freaking distracting.

Not that I don't _like _being distracted by Emily. But anyway.

Now I'm royally screwed. What kind of husband doesn't give his wife something for her birthday, even though technically, we weren't _actually_ together? I mean, I know Emily fancies me – _that_ is quite obvious – but we still weren't… _there._But even friends give their friends gifts, if that's all we were (so far). I was completely at a loss.

Therefore, screwed.

She likes Quidditch. Food. Only really wears a little jewelry, so that's no good. I'd give her clothes, but I feel as though it would become suggestive rather than a nice gesture. If I gave her a book, I'd probably be selfishly annoyed that she was devoting attention to it. I could give her an artifact from a souvenir shop around here, but there are so _many_! How do you choose?

In the end, we decided to go to the beach for her day - well, most of it. We like sleeping in. Rose and Malfoy decided to tag along to celebrate, but unfortunately, they were a little awkward to be around.

"We should split them up."

I choked on air. "_What_?"

"We should split them up," Emily said, perfectly calm. "You know, for a little while." I forcibly ripped my gaze from her (who was lying on the towel next to mine, wearing a long t-shirt that unfortunately covered herself but her legs were visible, so that was fine) and went to my cousin and her husband.

I think I've just been scarred for life.

Emily was laughing as I snapped my head back, covering face with my hands and moaning. "My _eyes._"

"It's not that bad," she reasoned, patting my arm and sending tingles through it.

"My _eyes._"

"At least, not yet..."

"Dear Merlin, my EYES."

"Shut up, Al," she said, her expression quite plainly suggesting she was enjoying the show. I lifted my hands and grinned at her. She blushed.

I love doing that.

"Why do you want to split them up, anyway?" I asked, laying back down on the towel. She shrugged and followed suit.

"I think you just saw, didn't you?" She sounded quite disgusted as she went on. "I mean, look at them. I'm just waiting for a muggle to arrest them for indecent exposure."

I burst out laughing. "Weren't you the one who was saying it wasn't that bad?"

"It wasn't that bad _yet._" She lifted her head a little to glance past me - then quickly squeezed her eyes shut as she saw them. "Never mind, I think they're shagging with their clothes on."

"Bullshit. Bathing suits do not count as clothing."

"Make it _stop_," she moaned, looking up at the sky in desperation. "People are going to stare!"

"That's sick."

"That's society."

I laughed and again and raised my voice, determinedly not looking at the couple. "Oi, ROSE! Emily needs to talk to you."

Nothing.

Moaning.

DEAR MERLIN, THIS IS SO WRONG.

"That's like... my _brother _over there," Emily muttered, closing her eyes again. "Practically. Why does he always do that?"

"Do what?"

"PDA. It's disgusting." I wrinkled my nose at the thought of my own brother's Public Displays of Affection. James wasn't exactly a ladies man, but he definitely showed off his girlfriends whenever he had them.

Probably to prove that he actually could _get _a girl...

Emily got up as Rose and Malfoy detached themselves and resumed normal, non-life scarring positions. "I'll go talk to her."

"Okay," I said, shutting my eyes and placing my hands behind my head. "Tell Rose if she does that again, I'll threaten the dolls." Emily snorted and left; I listened as her footsteps in the sand faded away. A few minutes later, I heard another pair of feet come up beside me.

"Hey, Potter."

I opened my eyes. "Malfoy," I greeted, nodding as he settled himself on Emily's towel. "Still think that Rose makes your head go in circles?"

He laughed; I could've sworn that through his amusement, there was a hint of admiration in his voice. "I was drunk. But," he added, smirking, "if you wanted help with Em, you didn't need to get me drunk for that."

"Dammit," I mumbled, shutting my eyes. "I hoped you wouldn't remember."

Malfoy laid back, stretching lazily. "What do you want to know?"

"You told me most of it," I contemplated out loud. "Like all the stuff for the date, to cut out the cheesy shit. Although," I added, scowling, "the movie the hotel guy picked out was full of romance."

"_Really_?" He seemed surprised. "I thought a sinking ship wouldn't be..."

"It's all right, she seemed to like it." I yawned. "Did you know your hair reflects sunlight?"

"No."

"You're blinding me, here."

Malfoy looked unimpressed. "If you want to know something, I suggest you'd spit it out."

"It's kind of awkward."

"Tell me or I'll hex you."

I rolled my eyes. "She won't let me kiss her, but I know she fancies me."

He took a sharp breath before relaxing back on the towel. Suddenly, there was something in his expression that seemed concerned, angry and sad - like he was thinking about something he he'd really rather not mention.

"I can't tell you that." Look at that, I was right.

"Why not?" I asked, very curious now. "Is it bad?"

"_Really _bad."

"What is it?"

Malfoy shook his head, shifting uncomfortably. "Listen, Potter, it's not my secret to tell. If she trusts you enough, she'll tell you herself -"

"Oh," I muttered. "So it's about her trust issues..."

"Have you ever wondered _why _Emily is so defensive?" he asked, staring at a seagull flying over the waters.

"Like how resistant she is to me?"

"Yes." He was now fiddling with his fingers, trying to settle himself. "You and Rose are the only people who managed to get through to her for a couple of years, now. Don't screw that up."

"But then you should tell me," I tried, prying for answers, "so I won't accidentally hurt her."

"It's not just something you can toss around, Potter!" he burst out, sounding extremely frustrated. "I'd like for you and her to sort out your problems for your child, but she went through a hard time with those people she called _friends_, and they completely -"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. My mind was reeling. "This has to do with that bird. Amy. And David. You mean..."

Malfoy groaned. "Shit."

"_That's _why she's so closed off?" I asked incredulously, not believing a word I was hearing. That couldn't be it. It was so minimal. "Because she went through a bad break up?"

"_No, _Potter." His voice was resigned and weary, as if it were painful for him to think about it. "That's partly it, but not -"

"Then what -"

"He abused her."

I was rendered into silence through shock. It was as if something was grabbing my insides and twisting them ruthlessly, then stabbing me with a thousand knives. That couldn't be it. No one could do that to her. Not to Emily.

"You're lying," I told him, my voice wavering.

"I'm not."

"How do you know? Did she tell you?"

"No." He was shaking his head. "She didn't."

"Then how?"

He sighed. "I'm already telling you too much. Listen," he began, turning and looking at me properly. I refused to meet his eyes. "Don't treat her differently. Don't tell her I told you. If she wants to talk about it, she will."

"But -"

"_Potter._" He was pleading. "I think she's happy around you."

At his words, I heard Rose and Emily's laughter approaching, and I realized he was right. I never knew Emily at school, but I remembered her alone and probably unhappy. I could only barely believe anyone would intentionally hurt her, even this dodgy David person - but it sounded as if it _was _bad. As if there was more to her than I thought.

"Please?" I nodded to him, trying to swallow the lump in my throat as Rose and Emily sat down in front of us, pointing to something on the other side of the beach. It was like I was trying to thank him and answer him at once.

He nodded back.

Subtle communication is our specialty.

* * *

"Are they at it again?"

"They're coming quite close to it."

"Wait - _nonono_!"

"Emily, I'm winning this bet."

"Nope. He just kissed her cheek."

"Dammit. Malfoy, don't let me down, initiate the snogging!"

"It's obvious that Rose is going to do it. See that look in her eye?"

"Shit... shit... _damn_!"

Emily grinned at me as we turned away from the now-kissing couple. "I won."

"You got lucky," I grumbled, giving up the last brownie. "I think my chocolate obsession is rubbing off on you."

"Perhaps," she said cheerfully, unwrapping it and taking a large bite. "Go on, have some."

"Thanks!" I bit off the other end before handing it back. She finished it off and stretched, giving me a better view of her legs.

_Nice._

"What do you want to do tonight?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I dunno. Want to check out the night scene?"

"Nah, I wouldn't know what to do with myself at a club."

"You could drink, though," I suggested, and she hit me. I grinned. "It's not _that _bad an idea! You wouldn't have to go to a club. Just at the hotel. Who wants to be eighteen and never tried alcohol?"

"I just..." She looked nervous.

"_Try _it. I'll stay sober for you, if you want."

She laughed and reached for my hand. "I'm sorry in advance for anything I do if I'm drunk."

"You mean you'll do it?" I asked, barely believing it. Emily twisted the ring on my finger.

"Sure. Why not?"

"I must be dreaming."

"Shut up," she snapped playfully, hitting me again. "By the way, have I told you that your cousin is insane?"

"You don't have to. I'm well aware of it."

She leaned back on the elbows, watching the families and children frolic in the waters of the sea. "She asked - no, _pestered _me for all the details of our date. She also told me you wouldn't give her any," Emily added, rolling her eyes. "I wasn't surprised."

"All good things?" I asked, hoping it was true. She shrugged and tried to hide her smile.

"Mostly."

"_Mostly?_"

"Yep."

I huffed dramatically. "Next time, I put in so much effort." She laughed and lay down close to me on the towel.

"There'll be a next time?" she asked quietly, still smiling.

"Well, let's think about it logically," I began, holding up my hand in front of us and ticking off my fingers. "I fancy you, right?"

"Right."

"You fancy me, right?"

I could see her blushing out of the corner of my eye. "Right."

"You had a good time on our date?"

"Yes."

"We spend all our time together, anyway."

"True."

"You have nice legs, right?"

She blushed a deeper red and tried to pull her long t-shirt down. "That's not up to me to decide."

"Right." I looked pointedly at her. "I've pretty much decided that I want to take you out again."

"I've pretty much decided that you're insane."

"Insanely attractive?"

"That too." She was turning red again, and I brought my lips to her neck.

"I thought so."

She rolled her eyes and sat up. "Want to go in the water before we leave?" I glanced over at Rose and Malfoy, who were still snogging like there was no tomorrow. Thankfully, Emily and I had convinced them to keep it in their pants.

I looked back at Em, who playing with the hem of her t-shirt again. "Sure."

* * *

_Damn, _that girl can _swim._

I resurfaced and spit water out of my mouth while pushing hair out of my eyes. Emily was several feet away from me and laughing, but I barely noticed; her while t-shirt was transparent and sticking to her body, and there wasn't much thought process in my mind at the moment.

"You suck at this," she said bluntly, completely oblivious to where I was looking.

"You were kicking water in my face!"

"It's not that hard," she reasoned, splashing me again. "Did you ever learn to swim?"

"Yeah, but not like _that._" I pushed my way through the water towards her, but she effortlessly glided away from me. I splashed her again, accidentally catching some in her mouth. She coughed violently as I reached her and rubbed her back.

"_Al_!" she rasped as she gasped for air. I grinned sheepishly at her.

"Payback?"

"That was cruel."

"Says the Slytherin - _come back here_!" She ducked into the water and headed farther out the sea. I took in a deep breath and plunged after her, but she was too quick for me; before I knew it, she'd disappeared while I was gritting my teeth in frustration.

It's her birthday. Merlin must be on her side.

And suddenly, something grabbed on my foot and I lost my balance.

That little...

"Whoops," she sung carelessly, sticking out her tongue. Her eyes closed, and I took the opportunity to lunge at her, grasping at her waist and pushing her backwards into the water. Bubbles floated from her mouth and nose and she kicked me.

I pulled her back up, and she spit water out. "I hope you know that when you kick me, it doesn't hurt," I stated, still holding her. She groaned and struggled to free herself, but I only pulled her closer and kissed her, only just missing her lips and catching the corner of her mouth.

"You have to stop doing that," she grumbled, crossing her arms and trying not to smile.

"Doing what?" My voice was quite innocent, if I say so myself.

"Trying to kiss me."

"I didn't _try_, I succeeded." She chuckled.

"I'm just not ready yet," she said quietly.

"Why not?" I asked, kissing her nose. "You fancy me. You must want to."

"I didn't say I didn't want to." She looked away, determinedly avoiding my eyes. Which was probably a good idea, because her lips were _really _tempting. "I promise I'll kiss you when I'm ready."

I nodded. If Malfoy was telling the truth, which he most likely was, then it made sense; sometimes these things needed time. I'm a little too impatient for that, though. She smiled at me; it reached her eyes and lit her entire face. That warm feeling filled my stomach again, and I reached around her and pulled her even closer.

"Okay."

"Thanks, Al," she said happily, her hands pushing on my shoulders so she could press her lips against my cheek. It tingled. "I appreciate it."

I tugged on the end of her t-shirt. "Why are you still wearing this?" She turned red.

"I want to."

"_Why_?"

"Stop it, Al." I gripped tightly at her sides, advancing slowly. She was growing weary at the sight of my smirk.

"C'mon, tell me."

"No."

"Emily -" She kicked my shin and slipped from my grasp. I watched as she emerged, slicking her hair back with one hand and tugging her shirt down with the other; she was panicking again.

There's _definitely _something going on.

I'm going to find out one way or another.

* * *

After an evening of more cake and food (although not abnormal amounts), we found ourselves back at the hotel, sitting on the balcony. We'd settled ourselves in the lounge chairs; Emily was reading a book given to her by Rose and Scorpius.

"I have to give you a present," I reminded her.

"No, it's okay."

"I haven't given you anything."

"You gave me this." She gestured casually to her ring, still not looking at me. I narrowed my eyes.

"That's different."

"It's enough."

"How?"

She shrugged and looked at the sky. "Look, it's a nice night; perhaps not as quiet as London, but the stars are out and it's sort of peaceful sitting out here. I'm happy. Aren't you?"

I nodded, surprising myself. "But..."

"Just let it go," she insisted, finally looking at me. I grinned.

"Did you enjoy your birthday?"

"I did, thank -"

"I have to tell you something," I blurted out, trying not to chicken out. Really, it was now or never; if I told her later, she would be angry at me for knowing so long and never asking about it. She'd probably be mad now, but it wouldn't be so bad, right?

She was regarding my curiously as my mind reeled. "What is it?"

"I..." I looked her in the eyes, and found that I couldn't ruin this day for her. I couldn't bring up what Malfoy told me, because that would be like opening an old wound. She didn't tell me. I shouldn't ruin what we had.

But it was so important.

"I - nothing," I said instead, shaking my head. She narrowed her eyes, but I went on before she could say anything. "You want that drink, right?"

Emily looked away, running her finger on the corner of the page. "Sort of."

"It's not so bad."

"Will it convince you to tell me what you just wanted to?" she asked, eyes sparkling. I laughed.

"Maybe."

"Bring it on, then," she told me as I got up. "You're drinking with me."

* * *

Ten minutes later, I was popping open two bottles of firewhiskey I'd gotten from the hotel bar. Emily was sitting on the edge of her chair, nervously tapping the cover of her book and biting her lip.

"Let's play a game," I suggested, and she relaxed and came up to my chair. "We'll take turns; take a sip, tell a secret." She took a deep breath, took one bottle and sat at the end of my chair. I pulled her back against me, trying to send her a reassuring smile.

"You go first," she told me, nudging me. I grinned and took a swing; it burned my throat as it went down, but I was used to it by now.

"What do you want to know?"

"All your dirty secrets," she joked, laughing. I joined her.

"Just ask something." She sighed and leaned back against my chest and resting her head on my shoulder. I kissed the side of her hair.

She thought for a moment. "Did you enjoy Rome, despite the fact that you didn't want to come?"

"Well..." I drank, listening to the honking of cars, the tourists' laughs, the jeering Italian men, the street dogs barking, the whoops of people who were drinking - like us. "Yeah," I said finally, leaning my head back on the chair. "I did."

Emily smiled and sat up for a moment, observing the bottle in her hand. She glanced back, and when I nodded, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a sip. Immediately, she began coughing for the second time that day.

"Merlin," she rasped when she obtained air. "That _burns._"

"It's firewhiskey, remember?" I stopped rubbing her back. "Better?"

"For now," she said, sighing and leaning back. "Ask a question, I can't think of anything."

I paused, lightly tapping the side of the bottle with my finger. "Do you think you would've enjoyed Rome with someone else?"

"I'm sure I would have," she said matter-of-factly, threading her free hand with mine. "But not as much as I did with you."

This continued for a bit, asking questions back and forth, but soon, we were so into telling secrets, we weren't even sure what we were confessing. It was a blur, really.

"I stole James' broom when I was four."

"Scorp and I messed up the big clock in the courtyard."

"I shaved my head. I was bald for a week until my mum would change it back."

"I spilled grape juice on a dress. On purpose."

"James dared me to hose the guests at our garden party once."

"Scorpius dared me to jump off the roof."

"I totally did it."

"I broke my leg and arm, but it was worth it."

"I put spiders on Uncle Ron's pillow."

"I tried to get my dad on a diet."

"I got Lily _off _her diet when she turned into a skeleton."

"I think running with my dad is how I got into running."

"I started running because we couldn't play Quidditch in the summer."

"I guess I got so used to running that I ran away from my problems."

"I pretend not to have problems, so I guess I do the same."

"You're a problem."

"I'm an attractive problem."

"I really like you."

"I really want to kiss you."

"I loved our date."

"I knew you'd fancy me if you gave me a chance."

"I'm really scared of taking chances."

"I think I'm an awful person."

"I'm stuck in the past."

"I'm not actually obsessed with chocolate."

"Rose was right about not stopping my life."

"I've never really talked to anyone about anything except for you."

"I'm _really _dizzy," Emily declared, more loudly than before. Her empty bottle dropped out of her hand and met the ground only inches below it, and she slumped into my chest. "I feel dizzy and before everything was great but now I feel _awful._"

I drained my own bottle and put it down next to hers before leaning back on the chair. She turned on her side to look at me. "Am I drunk?"

"Seems like it."

"Are _you _drunk?"

"A little."

"Of _course_ I'm a lightweight," she huffed, turning back and crossing her arms, looking rather disappointed in herself. "Of _course._"

I laughed. "It's your first time drinking, Em."

"I thought," she groaned, tilting her head up on my chest so she could look at me, "that drinking made you happy. Made you forget."

"You drank too much."

"You _told _me to!" she defended, turning around again. "But I still remember. I've been trying to ignore all afternoon the fact that you won't look at me the same."

My mouth went dry. "What?"

"I'm not that confident in myself, but I'll act like it." She laughed, but it was hollow. Sad. She was remembering. She nudged me again. "Go on, tell me something."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "You're right. I haven't been looking at you the same."

She laughed darkly. "It figures. Did you know that I love spending time with you? You make me happy. I miss being happy."

"You make me happy, too."

"You know what I miss?" she asked, fingering the hem of my shirt. "My friends. My stupid friends. The ones who hated me for no reason!"

I swallowed. "I didn't really have friends at school. Mostly cousins."

"They hurt me." Emily had suddenly become very quiet. "I don't know what I did to them. I even apologized, and I didn't know what for. And then I decided that friends like them weren't worth having."

"I always tell you to open up to me, when I haven't done the same for you."

"The fact that you won't look at me scares me." She was biting her lip. "What did I do?"

"Nothing!" I wasn't reassuring. "Nothing, Emily."

"I'm _sorry_," she whispered, shaking. "Whatever it was, I didn't mean it."

"You didn't do anything," I told her firmly. "I promise." She bit her lip again.

"Your turn. Secret."

"Oh," I mumbled. The alcohol was blurring my thoughts. "Umm..."

"The only reason I stayed with my ex-boyfriend was because my friends ditched me."

She said it so fast, it slurred - but it was casual. Despite the fact that it made my stomach drop and my mind spin, she said it as though she knew it. Expected me to know it. Said it as if it were fact.

"Your turn."

I cleared my throat. "I..."

"My friends left." Her voice was flat, contained. "He was all I had left. David," she choked, emotion flooding back into her words. "He told me every day that it was because I wasn't good enough for them."

She stopped for my turn, but I couldn't think. "What did he say?"

She sighed and looked at me. "I was ugly. Annoying. Independent. Too happy." She looked as though she was tired - tired of thinking about it, tired of crying about it. No tears welled in her eyes. "He told me that if I wanted friends, I should give in. I should let him hurt me. It wasn't fair, Al." She broke off into whispers. "It wasn't fair. And I let him hurt me, but I was still alone.

"But," she continued in a slightly stronger voice, "I don't care."

I stared at her. My throat was too tight to make a sound.

She stopped shaking, as though her mind was suddenly clear. Her expression was oddly blank and determined. "I don't care," she repeated.

"What..." I cleared my throat, but it was still so raspy I had to whisper. "How can you not care?"

"I don't." She was so still, I could feel her heart beating. "I don't care. I don't care about David. I don't care about my friends. I don't care how I was _still_ jealous of Amy and David, even after everything he did to me. I don't care that he made me hate myself. I don't care that they're the ones who broke my trust in anyone who approached me. I don't care that _you_, of all people, broke through that damn wall I worked so hard to build. I don't care that you broke it and made me fall for you, and now you won't even look at me properly. I don't care that my father's in prison and my mother forgot my own birthday. I don't care that I feel like I'm alone," she swallowed, "except with you."

I wanted to tell her I knew that she was abused. I wanted to tell her that she didn't need her old friends, that I cared more than they ever did. I wanted to tell her that I knew how she felt, and that she always looked freaking amazing all the time. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong - that I was the one who was afraid of falling for her, after all we went through.

But I didn't get the chance. Before I could utter a single word, she covered my lips with her hand and looked straight in my eyes. There wasn't even a trace of her tears, because not caring was her mantra. Her irises shone in the little light coming from the moon, grey flecks within the brown. I could hear the stories her eyes were screaming to tell, or how he broke her, of how _I _was breaking her. Her breath was brushing my face, and still no tears sprung in her eyes. Her voice was dead calm but filled with so many emotions that I got shivers up my shine as she spoke.

"I don't _fucking _care anymore."

And she collapsed against me, her arms around my middle and shaking again. I could tell that this was the most she had revealed to anyone, even her family, even Scorpius, and she shouldn't have.

I pulled my wand from my belt and summoned a blanket from the room. It came through the open door and covered us; I couldn't exactly carry her, and it looked as though she had fallen asleep. I closed my own eyes, trying to push it away, trying to forget. And just as I was almost asleep, she whispered into my chest.

"I lied."

I took a deep breath and looked at her. "Emily?"

"I lied." She shifted against me, taking my hand. "I care about you."

And as she fell asleep, all I could think about was how she was protecting herself when she resisted me, and how I almost wished that she had succeeded. I was wrong. Falling for each other was a bad idea. It was a mistake, and all my fault for forgetting.

Happy birthday, Emily. Happy birthday.


	21. Emily: The Breaking

**Chapter Twenty-One: Emily: The Breaking**

My mind was spinning, round and round, faster and faster, and then I heard myself screaming at the top of my lungs, and then I was drowning, drowning, _drowning_...

I opened my eyes and gasped for breath; it was still dark, and I was lying on a surprisingly rough and bumpy surface. It grounded me as my head spun, my vision hazy. But none of that was in my mind: a single thought was floating through the darkness, because Al couldn't be dead, he _couldn't _be...

And as my eyes focused I saw him, a little blurry at first, but he was there, peering over me, wand in one hand and holding me down with the other. His cheeks were flushed and he looked panicked, but he was _alive._He hadn't done anything stupid (except send water on my face using his wand). He was breathing. His heart was still beating.

Alive.

And without thinking (I probably couldn't have thought anything comprehensible, even if I wanted to), I wrapped my arms around his middle and pulled him forwards; he topped over and collapsed on me, knees of either side of my legs, but I didn't care; he was _fine,_and even if my world wasn't even slightly making sense, what could possibly be wrong?

His voice answered my unasked question, cutting through my tears of relief that were currently leaking onto his shirt. "Emily, it's three in the morning." The words seemed almost foreign to me, and meant nothing. He was alive, alive, _alive..._

"Emily, _stop it._" His voice was firm, now, his knees pressing down on the wooden lounge chair beneath me (so _that's _that I was lying on) so that he lifted himself off me. I realized I must have been thrashing, since his hand moved from the top of my chest to my forehead. "You're really warm," he murmured worriedly. My mind was beginning to clear, only to be replaced by an aching throb in the top of my head. My hands found my way there, and I moaned.

"Shit -" And then he was hurtling me upwards and yanked me off the chair. My knees hit the rough floor of the balcony, and suddenly I was throwing up my dinner into the nearest potted plant.

My stomach convulsed and I gasped for breath. Al glanced around awkwardly before disappearing inside the room. When he came back, he dropped down beside me and wiped my mouth with a towel.

"Thanks," I breathed, sitting back and holding my head. Al's expression looked oddly pained.

"Shut up," he whispered, standing and pulling me up with him. "Just stop, okay?"

"What?"

"_Stop_." He led me back into the room. I somehow ended up collapsing on his side of the bed, nose pushed into the pillows and and limbs automatically curling around the blankets. Al stood there watching me until I faced him.

"Aren't you coming?" I asked groggily, feeling the effects of alcohol and my nightmare and sleep overtake my senses. Al seemed to consider it before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"No." His voice was cold and indifferent. He strode back out to the balcony. I kept wondering what was going on, but I felt more relief than anything before I passed out.

He was alive.

* * *

And then the lights were burning my eyes, my head was pounding again and my reoccurring nightmares were speeding through my mind. I curled up tighter into myself; what was happening to me? I had nightmares all the time, but it was never this bad.

It was the alcohol. It must've been.

_I'm never drinking again_, I thought to myself, burying my face in my pillow. Tears were spilling onto my cheeks, my head was still spinning and my head just hurt _so _much and I wanted Al. It was that dizzy moment that I realized how much I depended on him; he was the one who would comfort me when I woke up in the middle of the night. He made me laugh uncontrollably, his positivity was rubbing off on me and I cared so much for him. And possibly the fact that when I last depended on someone this much, I got hurt - and that scared me.

I liked him. Too much, even.

Where _was _he?

I turned around with some difficulty, my head still unbearably heavy and tears staining my cheeks. It was still dark; Al was sitting at his desk, twirling his wand in his hand as it emitted light onto a book. I called his name, my voice rough, scratchy and very quiet - but he heard it.

He came over and knelt on the bed. "It's just a hangover," he said softly, and I winced at the noise. "Don't worry, it'll get better soon."

But I _couldn't _think. Instead, I gripped his arm and pulled him down against me. I knew it was rather odd, seeing as it was me who usually resisted and him who initiated, but I couldn't care less. Al was surprisingly stiff, but I was too sick to acknowledge it.

He sighed wearily, his voice humming over me. "Just sleep, okay?"

* * *

The next time I woke, I was alone. Thankfully, the nausea, headache and dizziness were gone, but I still felt groggy and disgusting. I stretched and stood from the bed, heading towards the bathroom.

I suppose this was the reason I didn't drink before; having little control over myself was frightening, and in another way, it was almost freeing... but it definitely wasn't something I was willing to try I again so quickly.

_I told him,_I thought bitterly as I stepped into the shower. Anxiousness was plunging in my stomach, nearly becoming another wave of nausea; I understood why Al had been acting so strange earlier. I never wanted him to know about David.

But now that he knew, he needed to understand.

I didn't explain it properly. He knew bits of what happened, perhaps the horrible parts that I kept bottled up inside, and it probably freaked him out. And it should have. It was an awful thing that happened. I didn't blame him in the slightest.

I sighed and turned off the water. I needed to explain everything. Before he took up my bad habit and assumed.

* * *

I leapt from the desk chair when Al returned. It was a little past lunch, but I was too nervous to eat, going over everything in my mind. Of course, I had considered acting as if nothing had happened, but it was inevitable; after last night, he deserved to know. I _had _to tell him.

And in a way, I wanted to. I'd never really talked about it before.

Wordlessly, Al strode by me, determinedly not looking at me as he went towards the window. He leaned on the sill and looked outside; it was a clear and bright day. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice cracking a little.

He didn't turn around. "Yeah, we do."

"I..." This was stupid; why was I so nervous? This was _Al,_for Merlin's sake; I had no reason to be jittery in the slightest. Sure, I fancied him and all, but if anything, I should've been relieved. I was about to set the record straight.

Because, really: I am not a broken person. I may have been broken once, but what happened doesn't define me. I'm stronger than that, strong enough to say it was my actions that show who I am.

And Al needs to know that.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked suddenly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and facing me. I felt my face burn from his insistent gaze, but I did my best to ignore it and focus on him. "Why didn't you talk to me while sober?"

I bit my lip. "Well, everything that happened doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"

"How could you say that?" he demanded angrily. It occurred to me that in the time I've known Al, I've never seen him display so much emotion, willingly or unwillingly. He neared me again, but I refused to shrink back. "How could you say that it doesn't matter now, when just last night, you were telling me all of it -"

"I didn't say it doesn't _hurt _anymore," I pointed out calmly, looking up at him. He crossed his arms.

"If you're still thinking about it, then you should've told me."

"Why the hell do I have to tell you anything?" He didn't answer, and I sighed. "Look, I never wanted to bring it up. Maybe I should start from the beginning."

"That would be helpful," he snapped, still stiff. Something inside the pit of my stomach was curling uncomfortably, and it wasn't butterflies; why was he being like this? I was telling him. Isn't this what he wanted?

"I guess it started when David asked me out," I began.

"Obviously."

"_Right,_" I continued forcefully, narrowing my eyes. "It was good for the first couple of weeks. All cheesy and shit. Then things... they got a little weird."

"I never would've guessed."

"You know what?" I spat, losing patience. I felt my blood practically boil at his attitude. "If you don't shut your mouth and let me explain properly, I'm not -" I cut off abruptly.

It wasn't going to be me to teach him to grow up.

Instead, I stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind me. Perhaps I'm equally as childish. I'm not sure.

But I sure as hell didn't deserve that.

And what hurt the most is that I was ready to tell him, to trust him with secrets that I hadn't even told Scorpius - but he insisted on treating me this way.

I didn't need that.

* * *

Food always makes you feel better. Have you ever noticed that? Compared to Al, I would _much _rather have food in my company. Even if it wasn't as attractive, it was nutrition, it gave me energy and it never let me down.

Unfortunately, Al chose to join me in the dining room anyway, despite the fact that he really was the last person I wanted to see at that point. I stabbed my fork in the plate of spaghetti, all taste disappearing as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere and plopped down in the chair beside me.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice monotone and defeated. "Did you come to interrupt my meal to -"

"I'm jealous, okay?" he blurted out to the side of my face. He startled some elderly wizards at the next table, but didn't seem to notice. "I'm jealous because he's the reason you never really talk to me about this stuff, but you probably talked to him because -"

"I was in love with him?" I gripped my fork tightly, trying not to feel embarrassed. "I wanted to tell you everything about fifteen minutes ago. You ruined that yourself."

I noticed that he didn't apologize, but shifted closer and took my hand. I didn't bother to pull away, but looked at him instead: his expression was practically unreadable. He squeezed my hand. "Please?" he asked.

I hated him so much sometimes.

"Fine," I grumbled, and proceeded to leave my lovely food and drag him outside. We went through the front doors and around the building, still not speaking. The silence was awkward and filled with thick tension, but I didn't focus on it; I was going to tell him.

Dear Merlin, I was going to _tell him._

The gardens around the hotel were beautiful; it complimented the modern Roman-style structure that was the building. I spotted a giant fountain as we neared the backyard, a pool of water surrounding a small statue. We stopped at the fountain and sat on the ledge, facing away from the water. My hand was limp in his as I pulled away and reached for my hair to twist it. I felt as though I hadn't done that nervous habit in ages.

"I won't say anything this time," he assured quickly. "Go on. You started dating him, and things got..."

"Bad," I put in, exhaling loudly and trying to relax. "I mean, not really at first. The first thing I noticed was when my friends told me they were angry that I spent too much time with David. They were right," I added, answering Al's questioning gaze.

"He forced you to spend more time with him?"

"Not '_forced_', exactly," I told him, fidgeting. "I liked him. I wanted to spend time with him, and he was encouraging it. But then," I went on before he could interrupt, "my friends kicked out of the group."

"But why did David encourage more time with you?" he asked before he could stop himself. "Wasn't he using you?"

"I'm getting to it," I assured. "My friends kicked me out. Amy was _really _mad... she was sort of the leader, and everyone followed her when she decided I wasn't loyal or good enough to be their friend."

"'Course, I never really fit in anyways," I said casually, bringing my legs up on the ledge of the fountain. "I was always sort of independent, never needing them. But it still hurt." I played with my shoelace. "It hurt, and there I was, friendless and alone.

"And then came David. My knight in shining armour." Al's lips twitched at the sarcasm. "He made me believe that I must've done something wrong, and I should only spend time with him. And, having no one else, that's what I did." I paused to think, suddenly remembering more clearly the details I had stuffed in the back of my mind. "I suppose this was the time I fell in love with him."

Al shifted uncomfortably.

"He became everything to me. It was like he had taken over me; if I wasn't with him, I was avoiding my ex-friends. I didn't talk to Scorpius. I tried to be myself, but then he'd tell me I was too ugly or annoying or something like that, and I'd try to fix it for him." I was vaguely aware of the trickling water from the fountain behind us as I spoke. "I didn't realize until later that he was hurting me. He told me I was worthless and wouldn't amount to anything, and I believed him. I thought he was helping me become a better person.

"But then he became violent," I continued. "He'd never apologize for it. David would push my limits. He would push until I was begging him to stop hurting me, and then he'd get up and leave without a second glance -"

"Stop," Al breathed. He wasn't looking at me. "I get it."

I cleared my throat. The words came so easily, as if I had been waiting so long to say them. "He eventually stopped asking me for sex when I wouldn't give in. I remember being relieved, but also worried that he lost interest in me. How _sick _is that?" I asked bitterly, almost laughing. "Then I saw David and Amy snogging in the Common Room one day. I found out he'd been cheating on me since Amy told him to spend more time with me so she could kick me out of the group. And David -"

"Merlin." Al's knuckles were white. "He was so screwed up."

"Yeah..." I looked down. "I don't think Amy ever asked him to hurt me like that. She probably only asked him to spend more time with me. We were fifteen and stupid and blind. We wanted to be wanted, and that's what we both got."

"So he cheated and used you." He was trembling more than I was, perhaps in anger, so I took his hand. "Does anyone else know?"

"Scorpius. My parents, to a certain extent."

"Did you tell them?"

"No..." My cheeks were tingling a little, now. "Scorpius knew about the cheating. He beat up David at King's Cross that year, since I told him little bits about it on the train. We hung out all the time in summer, and I was trying to act normal, like it was just a bad breakup... and it was working. But then," I remembered, rolling my eyes, "he walked in on me while I was changing."

"_What_?"

I grew a little cross. "Oh, don't give me that. There will never be something going on between Scorpius and I." We were like brother and sister. More so than others, in a sense; we never really talked at school unless we needed to. We always knew we'd be friends no matter what.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But I don't understand how he found out if -"

"Oh." I faltered. "I have scars on my stomach."

"_Scars_?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, blush creeping up my neck. "David caused a lot of marks, on my torso specifically, so no one would see. There were some on my arms, but my robes hid them; I was paranoid someone would see something darker on my stomach. I tried to heal them myself."

"And it didn't work."

"Sort of. I ended up making the bruises permanent, and they healed on the inside."

"And Malfoy saw them." I nodded. Al shook his head. "Why didn't you ever ask your dad to get rid of them? He's a healer, right? I mean, even if you messed up the spell, I'm sure -"

"Are you kidding me?" I yelped incredulously, eyes wide. "Tell my _father_? Are you mad?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Why _not_?"

"I can't tell him," I said firmly, taking my hand away. "It's hard enough telling _you._I never even told Scorpius, he just guessed his way through it."

"Emily..." He looked very confused by now. "Are you saying your parents don't -"

"They know about the relationship," I told him. "They just don't know he physically hurt me. I would never tell them that."

"But _why not_?"

"Because it's embarrassing!" I burst out, my face becoming very hot.

"_Embarrassing?_"

"Yes!" He was searching my expression for answers, but was quite unsuccessful in finding them. I looked away. "I was supposed to be this strong person. I was. I was tough, happy. No one could ever hurt me, and it's what I was known for."

"But -"

"You don't get it!" I said loudly over his protests. "It wasn't the fact that he hit me, okay? Wounds heal. It was..." I was desperate to put it into words before he interrupted again, to make him understand. I bit my lip. "It was power over... everything. My mind, my happiness. I lost that. I lost control over myself."

"You mean he cursed you?"

"No, nothing like that." Al was reaching for my hand again, but I refused; instead, I looked him straight in the eye. "I loved him, Al."

He didn't say anything, so I went on. "I thought I loved him. I was convinced he would treat me better if I changed for him, but... he screwed me up." I swallowed. "Do you know how it feels to have everything stripped from you? To be happy, doing well in school and feeling healthy one day, and the next, someone is hurting you and telling you that you're absolutely nothing?

"I was treated like absolute _shit,"_ I whispered. "I felt _worthless,_okay? Do you get it now? I was embarrassed because I was strong, and then he was breaking me into pieces, and I had to pretend it wasn't happening.

"It's not that he hit me," I decided, voice shaky. "It's that he used me to get to Amy because she was more popular than I was. Then he used my physically, and released all his frustrations on me. He controlled my thoughts, and made me believe my insecurities I had hidden so well. It's that I was losing control over my own life."

"Like you are now." Comprehension was now visible in his expression; he finally got it. "The ministry controls your life's outcome."

"It's scary." I looked away. "You understand why I didn't want to let you in, or anyone else in? You get why I was so reluctant to fancy you, why I..." _… wouldn't kiss you?_

But that's the thing: I've wanted to kiss him for days, now, but every time he went for it, it just... didn't feel right. Of course I fancied him, it was obvious as hell. But I needed control as I was falling for him, nearly out of control. We all do. I needed to be ready.

Al nodded, and I sighed in relief. "Al?"

"Yeah?"

"There's one more thing."

"There's _more_?"

"Yes," I said, laughing. "What you should also know is that while it still hurts sometimes... it's in the past."

Al's expression was set back to confused. I switched routes.

"Okay... so you know how Scorpius found out?" He nodded. "Right. After that, we sat down and he guessed everything. I really couldn't talk about it at this point... he was the one who helped me through it all; he told my parents about David's verbal abuse, but let me keep my secret. They got my back on my feet. They taught me that what he did was wrong, and he was wrong about everything he told me. We painted my room yellow. I barely passed my OWL's, so I spent time studying. I focused on other things. I became really close to my parents.

"I told myself I didn't care about anything." He shifted, recognizing the phrase; I remembered my drunken rant from the night before. "It became my mantra. I would tell myself so often that eventually, I _didn't _care. I started to believe it.

"I was healing," I explained. "I was getting my confidence back. I may have become more guarded and not had friends when I went back to school, but I was happier. Healthier. Sometimes I still question everything," I added, looking down at my knees. I rested my feet on the ground again. "Sometimes, I question my self-worth. That doesn't really... go away.

"But my point is," I said hastily before he interrupted again, "is all this?" I almost grinned as I glanced at him. "Everything I just told you? It doesn't really matter anymore. It's all in the past, and I moved on. The effects are still there, but I don't think about it excessively anymore. I don't want you to think about it, either. That's the thing about... being _broken,_" I said, realizing it as I spoke. "When you're put back together, you're stronger.

"Sometimes I don't feel stronger," I admitted, shrugging. "I'm a lot more emotional than I used to be. But I'm stronger because of it."

And at that moment, I just felt _amazing_. Euphoric.

Why? Because I had just done something that I'd wanted to do for a long time. I told Al things I hadn't even told Scorpius, letting it just pour out of me, and I felt unbelievably... _free._

"Emily?" I looked back at him. It seemed as though he was experiencing just about a million emotions at once - quite strange for a teenage boy, but there you have it. He was looking at me like he was seeing someone he hadn't quite known before, someone better - and that felt _so _good. He traced his fingers on the palm of my hand before threading his fingers through mine and squeezing. He looked as though he would burst if he didn't speak.

"You're the strongest person I know," he blurted out.

And I fully believe that's what made me do it. It was a rush of affection and courage that sprung from those words. Al believed I was strong, and that meant more to me that I had ever imagined it would. Just the knowledge that he knew everything that happened, and that he understood made me have faith in myself to take control of my life again.

So that's what I did.

I tightened my grip on his hand, pulled him forward and kissed him.

I found myself smiling against his lips, nearly laughing; Al had completely frozen from shock. Nevertheless, I kissed him softly, my other hand coming up to grip his shoulder and my stomach feeling as though it would explode, because somehow, I felt even better than before.

I pulled back after a few moments and pressed my forehead against his. It didn't matter he hadn't kissed me back, or that he was _still _in shock and his eyes remained closed.

I kissed him. I actually did it.

When he opened his eyes, I was outright grinning. "Sorry," I explained breathlessly, "I've been trying for a couple of days to pluck up the courage to do that. I just wanted to be the one to do it, so... I dunno." I shrugged. "It felt right."

Al was still staring at me with wide eyes. "You kissed me."

"That I did."

"You honestly - bloody _hell_-"

"Gee, it wasn't that bad," I teased. Our noses were brushing lightly against each other, our hands now both in each others and this _warm _feeling was spreading through me. "Although if you'd participated, it might've been a bit better."

Al wasn't listening to me. "You kissed me," he repeated in a whisper. I didn't say anything; between actually telling him everything and kissing him, I was too happy to speak. I wanted to kiss his soft lips again, but he was searching my eyes - for _what_, I'm not quite so sure - and realized that his mind was miles away. I waited.

"My turn," he finally whispered, grinning.

This time I _did _laugh, and he untangled our fingers, took my face in his hands and pressed his lips against mine. That warm feeling became almost intense, and I completely lost myself within it; his fingers were inching towards the back of my neck, the other hand threading itself through my hair. His lips were warm as well, kissing me softly as though I would break, gently but still passionately enough.

And then, somehow, his hand found the small of my back and pulled me forwards, so much that the next thing I knew, instead of our hands intertwined, we were practically intertwined in each other. My hand was gripping the back of his neck, the other one clenching his shirt above his chest. He was pressing kisses on my lips so slowly and carefully that my stomach was seizing, clenching in on itself and turning over.

I never imagined kissing Al would be like this, and I'm glad I waited. There was something so different about it; perhaps it was the fact that I felt like bursting into laughter and that he was grinning as we kissed and my heartbeat was going on overdrive.

I just felt on top of the world.

It really was that moment that I remembered that I was _not _on top of the world and was, in fact, on the ledge of a fountain.

And why would I remember such a tedious fact in such a blissful moment?

It might've had something to do with losing balance and falling sideways into the pool.

Yes. We fell in the fountain.

While kissing.

(We're really good at this.)

I began to laugh while untangling ourselves, even as my head hit the floor of the shallow pool; it was all just so _unreal_. I told him my darkest secret. I kissed him. I felt as if I had borrowed time from someone else's life.

I sat up and clutched my head where I hit it, still giggling. Al was regarding me, looking highly amused as he pushed wet hair out of his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, somewhat uneasily at my behaviour.

"I'm fine," I breathed, massaging my head. "It just bloody hurt; my head hit the floor when we fell. It'll get better soon, though - Al?"

Al's smile had completely fallen. He was looking at me in that odd way again, except this time, his expression made my stomach curl in fright. He backed away from me, lifting himself out of the water and sitting on the ledge.

"Al?" I repeated, my hands falling from my head and onto my knees. "What's wrong?"

He didn't say anything. He was staring at me, almost as if in horror, and kept backing away. I felt the sick anxiousness rise in me as I watched him get out of the fountain, never taking his eyes off of me. "Al -"

"You have to get over me."

My stomach dropped. It was as if the world had suddenly become darker, the warm feeling disappearing. Al looked pained, but his expression was clear; this is what he must've been planning from the start.

I swallowed. "Excuse me?"

"You have to, Emily." He'd only said it twice, but he was already begging. "Please."

My mouth was so dry, I couldn't swallow anymore. This couldn't be happening; how could he tell me to get over him, when only last week, he was the one asking me to fall for him?

And there I was in that fountain, still panting a little, lips swollen, water falling all around as I stared at him in disbelief - because I fell for him. I fell harder than I had intended to, and I couldn't just _undo _that.

"Look, just -" He cut off and stuffed his hands in wet shorts, not looking at me. "I'm sorry, but you have to get over me. Please, Emily." Then he was striding away, leaving me there in the stupid fountain in the stupid yard, abandoning me for reasons beyond my knowledge.

And that's pretty much when I found myself breaking all over again.


	22. Emily: The Rules

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Emily: The Rules**

I was mad.

Furious.

To the point Al feared my presence when I was in the room.

Okay, so that's a _bit _of an exaggeration. We hadn't stopped speaking altogether, but we tried to avoid the topic of the fact that we were married. And supposedly had a baby, according to Rose and Scorpius. And supposedly in love, according the rest of our families.

The thing was, it was hard for me to get away from the fact that we were in Rome the week before, and as much as the label of a _honeymoon _didn't apply, it was… constant flirting. Touching. Kissing.

And he _ignored _that.

I hexed him (almost) because it felt like none of what happened that week mattered to him. I thought we'd gotten so much closer, and there was the huge part of me that was obviously attracted to him – and he didn't care. It was like he didn't give a shit about me, and I knew deep down that it wasn't true.

But that thought was wavering.

* * *

Our encounters throughout the week went a little like this:

Al: (Plops down on couch beside me.) Hey.

(Second of silence. Awkwardly avoiding eyes. Close proximity, but not _that _close.)

Me: (Clears throat.) Hey, Al.

Al: How are you?

Me: Fine. (Thinks: NOT FINE. SHEESH, BOY. EVEN YOU'RE NOT THAT THICK.) How are you?

Al: Great. (Pause. Sighs discreetly.) Do you want to eat? Or do you want to… (Points to the book in my lap.)

(Awkwardly noticing exactly where he's pointing.)

Me: Yeah, let's eat. What do you think you'll have?

Al: Well, you could make me something… (Subtle attempt at humour. Nervous laugh.)

Me: (Listening to laugh. Loving his laugh. In a daze.) I, err… uhh…

Al: No, no, I was just kidding –

Me: Right. (Sits up straighter.) I'll make you something. If you want burnt food.

Al: (Laughs for real this time.) I love your burnt food!

(Cue: huge urge to snog.)

Me: (Laughs to cover it. Gets up. Accidentally brushes hands together.)

Al: (Giant leap backwards.) Emily!

Me: What?

Al: Don't do that!

Me: Do what?

Al: You know what!

Me: (Becoming impatient.) What are you on about?

Al: You're supposed to be getting over me! (Stomps away before I can hex him.)

… yeah.

* * *

The morning after we came home was okay. Sort of. I sat down at the breakfast table, right across from Rose, and put my food in front of me. A hand waved in front of my face. I almost bit it.

Hey, I was hungry.

"What do you want, Rose?" I asked wearily at her attempts to get my attention. It was almost sad; she was practically bouncing up and down in her seat. What did she want, anyway? It was seven in the morning and I just went for my run and I was exhausted and hungry and cranky and miserable –

No.

I was not miserable.

Not over a stupid boy.

Rose was becoming very annoyed. "Will you _listen_?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't need to listen to anybody," I grumbled, "or do what anyone says."

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened yesterday?"

"No."

She groaned as I turned back to my plate full of food. I tend to eat when I'm upset, but when I saw my plate, I found that my bacon turned downwards so that it was frowning. My plate was a sad face. Hell, it was practically crying.

THE IRONIES OF LIFE AREN'T FUNNY.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rose demanded as I started stabbing the bacon with my fork. I ignored her and continued to break it into tiny little greasy pieces. I was _not _upset. I was not heartbroken or some stupid shit like that. Al's just another stupid guy who wants to get laid. He's just like the rest of them.

"Emily?" I looked up. Rose was no longer annoyed; her expression was thoughtful, looking from me to the cut up bacon. She glanced at the staircase that led to where Al was still sleeping. "Are you okay with still sharing a bed with Al?"

I stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you guys are obviously fighting… and it looks…"

"It looks that bad?" I managed, staring in her anxious blue eyes.

"Yeah. I mean, a little..."

My anger had deflated considerably the first night I'd gotten back. The only time I actually became angry (murderous) was when I heard Al's voice, because I just kept hearing '_you __have __to__ get __over __me,__' _over and over…

"I don't care," I said forcefully, going back to my plate and pushing the little bits of bacon away to eat my eggs. "I don't care if I have to share a bed with him. He can do whatever the hell he wants."

* * *

Confession: I didn't want to get over him. Not even a little.

I'll confess that I had no problem sharing a bed with him because it was the one time where I could still pretend that nothing happened, that he hadn't said anything. It was the time I actually thought about the entire situation – calmly. Objectively.

And it's kind of funny. I'd been so focused on trying to be careful in falling for him that I never realized _what _I liked about Albus. It was kind of like the times when people don't see what they have until it's gone, and that week was when I truly realized how little I knew about him. How much I depended on him.

I was a pretty independent person, mind you – and Al knew it. It was one of the things I liked about him: he'd give me my space when I needed it, and even though he could be kind of annoying when he was bored, it was endearing. And he knew his limits.

He was sweet. Funny. Smart. Everything any girl's ever really wanted in a guy, and Al is more than that. When I first met him, I thought he was rude and aloof; he didn't seem to care about anything, and had the audacity to tell me to care. And ask me to fall for him. And then ask me to _stop _caring.

So I was a little bitter. Can you blame me?

It was strange how first impressions can blind you. I thought he had a strange hero's complex like his father (which he did) and wasn't capable of seeing past his ego, which wasn't _that _large, but large enough. I thought he was naïve and spoiled. I didn't realize how caring he could be until he proved me wrong.

Why couldn't he _keep_ trying to prove me wrong? He went back to being my first impression of him, which might have been the true side of him all along. I always thought he was hiding something from me, but I didn't think it was that bad. I didn't think _this _would happen.

Which, if you think about it, isn't really much. We came back from the honeymoon. Woke up in the morning. Ate breakfast. Went to work. The only difference is that we don't speak, and it's super awkward. If it was awkward before, one of us would laugh and we'd get over it. Now, I'm not quite so sure.

Before, we were friends. I didn't know Al's past with his friends. I know one of them died. He was a strange friend in that I knew a lot about him, and nothing at the same time. We didn't lie to each other. We talked about everything, laughed about everything. We were so damn comfortable around each other.

We _fit._

How the hell did I mess up something so good?

* * *

During my revelations, I realized that I was a _terrible _daughter-in-law.

Or person. Since I forgot Harry freaking Potter's birthday.

But I guess it wasn't as bad as Al forgetting his own father's birthday. In his defense, he was busy telling me to get over him, and given my response, he was busy trying to reverse the Jelly-Legs jinx. I don't know what he was thinking throughout that entire week, since we didn't really talk other than to argue.

Or awkwardly twiddle our thumbs.

Thumbs are quite entertaining, mind you.

Mr. Potter didn't seem to care, though. He didn't know anything about coming back from Rome early, since he merely assumed we were away for it and planned a party for the weekend after we returned.

This party was huge. It wasn't formal or a ball or anything; it was being held in their home as a casual dinner. What was so _big _about it was the fact that the entire Weasley-Potter family was invited, along with the Longbottoms, Scamanders and Merlin-knows-who-else. It was like a giant potluck.

According to Rose, most of the adults just stood around eating or serving food and talking to people about adult-stuff while drinking Firewhiskey. Everyone else would play Wizard's chess and Gobstones and Exploding Snap. No awkward sitting at the dinner tables.

Sounded like fun.

But as soon as I got there, I figured out that 'fun' really wasn't the word for it.

(Maybe 'frenzied'.)

I didn't even have to enter the house to realize it. Al, Rose, Scorpius and I apparated outside the Potter home (I blatantly refused to Side-Along with Al, being more of an obnoxious bitch than I was already being) and found… toilet paper.

White, one-ply, honest-to-Merlin _toilet_ _paper._

Only the Potters would drape toilet paper over their own home.

The four of us burst into laughter at the sight of it; toilet paper was wrapped clumsily around every nook and corner you could think of. It was coming out of the cat door, the windows, the _chimney_… not to mention that it seemed like the house was lit, literally _alive._It was small, but the inside was beautiful.

And the outside looks like the floor of a public restroom.

Eh, what can you do.

Still chuckling, we made our way to the front door, where Al happily pushed the door open without knocking or ringing the doorbell. The next thing I saw was something I can only properly describe to you as pandemonium.

Complete and utter _chaos._

Note to self: never try to fit so many families in such a small house.

I followed Al through the people; they were cramped everywhere, talking and laughing, paper plates held mid-air and drinks flying above heads. Little kids were just about everywhere. One came running into my side.

"Are you okay?" I cried immediately as the little girl fell over. She had to be no more than two, and like the majority of the population of the house, she had red hair, curly and bouncing… as her brown eyes filled with tears.

Uh oh.

"MOMMYYYYY!"

"Shit," I muttered, bending down. "Are you okay? Where does it hurt?"

Her face was blotchy red and scrunched up. I doubted she was even hurt. Just surprised. "Emyhare," she mumbled.

"What?"

"EVERYWHEEEERE!" she wailed, curling into a little ball. I glanced back; Rose and Scorpius had wandered further in the house, and Al was… surprisingly in a similar position as the little girl.

He was doubled over. Laughing.

Git.

"What do I do?" I whispered, scooping the tiny girl in my arms.

"You should see your face!"

"MUUUUMMM!"

"Shut up and help me!"

"Merlin, you're going to lose your hearing at this rate."

"OWWWWWW!"

"You're pathetic," I snapped at Al, switching and focusing my attention on her. I rocked her and held her level to my face, bringing up one hand to wipe her tears. "What's your name?" I asked softly.

"Lucy."

"She's Uncle Percy's daughter," Al offered in between chuckles. I ignored him.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked. She detached her hands from rosy cheeks, where she was attempting to wipe away her tears, and pointing behind her.

Her butt.

Well.

"Okay, let's take you to your mum," I said hastily, looking to Al, who was pressing his lips tightly together in an attempt to stop laughing. He cleared his throat.

"She's usually in the kitchen," he told me, finally being helpful for once in his life. I followed him through the throng of people, ducking and twisting until finally, we reached a thin, brown-haired lady chatting with Al's grandmother.

"Muuuumm," the girl cried softly, reaching out to her. Her mother took Lucy wearily, rocking her as I had done and rubbing her back.

"Oh Lucy," she sighed, looking from me to Al. "Did she fall over again?"

"Ran into Emily," Al piped up, still trying not to laugh. "I guess she still cries about everything, then?"

"Emily!" Without warning, I was engulfed in a warm hug from Mrs. Weasley – Al's grandmother, that is. Lucy's mother took her away and was immediately swallowed within the crowd. "How are you doing?"

"Just fine," I said weakly, peeking over her shoulder and sticking my tongue out at Al. "How are you?"

"Getting by," she said happily, letting go. She turned to pinch Al's cheeks. They turned red. "How was your honeymoon? I remember _my__ –_"

"Lovely." I tried to keep my expression from dropping a little. "Thank you so much for planning it."

"It was no problem at all, dear," she promised, turning and patting my arm. "Eat up, there's food on that table –"

"Albus!" His older brother had evidently just realized that he was here, since James decided to tackle him with a hug, sporting a huge grin. "When'd you get here?"

As they spoke, I took a moment to try and observe the overly-crowded room. Decorations were hung clumsily but lovingly everywhere; the room looked like a rainbow with its streamers and balloons. The dinner table had been shoved to the wall and had so much food on it, I was surprised the table hadn't collapsed. In the middle was a giant orange cake shaped like a fish.

(I didn't get it either.)

"Mum?" I think I had spoken out loud when I spotted her face in the crowd. I didn't expect to see her, or for her to be invited. She was speaking to Rose's mother about something seemingly serious.

"Where are you going?" Al asked, grabbing my arm as I started to move. I looked down at his hand.

"Are you sure you can do that?" My arm was tingling where he was gripping, almost burning. "I mean, it's physical contact. Wouldn't want to put me over the edge."

"Where are you going?"

"I might just get the urge to shag you after this. Insistent hormone transfer though skin. The sorts."

"Shut up," he grumbled, pulling me so that I was closer. Face-to-face. "I'm just asking, since I think we should probably see my parents –"

"This isn't helping," I sang airily, continuing as though I hadn't heard him, as though I hadn't noticed this was the closest we've been while awake all week, as though I didn't notice how his green eyes were burning. "Watch out, Al, I might actually have feelings for you. Oh, that's right," I added, dropping the sing-song voice. "You don't _care._"

Al's demeanor was breaking with frustration. "You're supposed to be trying to get over me," he said so quietly, I almost didn't hear him.

"Well, _I_ know that." I pulled my arm out of his grip. "But do _they_?"

Al visibly paled and I wondered whether it was that big a deal to have feelings for him. Was it really so dangerous to fancy a guy? I mean, what could possibly happen? A heartbreak? I mean, at least we'd have given it an honest shot.

"We're married," he breathed.

"Thank you, captain obvious."

"_Shit._" He glanced around; no one had taken even the slightest notice of our conversation. "Shit, shit, _shit. _I forgot."

"Well," I said, stung. "Thanks."

"I'm an idiot."

"I noticed."

"It doesn't feel like we're married," he whispered so quietly, I had to lean forward to hear. He didn't seem to notice. "Does it?"

"N-no." We were close again. I couldn't think.

"We'll have to pretend," he decided, and the next thing I knew, he'd slung an arm around my waist. It was so easy for him to turn it off and on. "Okay?"

I narrowed my eyes. "So you'll act like you care in front of everyone else, but not me?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, his mother attacked him from behind, startling him. "Albus!" she greeted cheerfully, making him let go of me and turn around to give him a proper hug. "You made it!"

"I did," he said quietly, smiling and kissing her cheek. "Hey, Mum."

"And Emily." She side-stepped him to give me a hug. "You look beautiful. How are you both doing?"

"Okay, I guess."

Mrs. Potter chuckled. "Married for an entire month, and you're already there? Things always change after the honeymoon."

_Oh._

Awkward.

I must've been gaping like a fish (maybe I looked like that cake) for at least a full minute before Al's hand found its way back around my waist. "Yeah, but I think we'll be fine," he told her, leaning down and kissing the side of my head.

I shivered and looked down, trying not to blush.

"Good," she said, looking over her shoulder. "Harry, it's Al…"

"Al?" Mr. Potter's head whipped around from a blue-haired man that he was talking to and found his son. "Albus! How are you doing?"

"Great," he replied, stepping away to greet his dad. As they spoke, I realized something very strange. For the first time, I noticed that Al wasn't exactly… I didn't know how to describe it. He was happy. Carefree. But there was some part of him that wasn't completely there, and even though I knew for a long time that he was hiding something, I never realized what he was doing.

He was_ faking _it.

And everyone was buying it.

I found myself wondering if he was faking everything with me in Rome. Did he mean any of it, really? I knew he was generally a cheerful, laid back person. But why was he acting like he didn't care about anything? He cared for me in Rome.

When was he real – when he did care, or when he didn't?

(When was any of this going to make sense?)

"Emily? Emily…" I shook my head as Al nudged my side, bringing me back to reality.

"How are you doing?" Mr. Potter asked politely.

"Fine, thank you." I stood straighter and tried my best to smile. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," he said, grinning and shaking my hand. "How's the new house coming? Have you been able to take care of it?"

Al laughed. "For the most part. Have you seen Lily around?"

"She's sitting with the rest of your cousins in the basement –"

"_Harry!__" _Mr. Potter was cut off by yet another relative, attacking him in a hug. "Mate, how are you doing?"

Al tugged on my arm, not looking at me as he dragged me back towards the hallway. I tugged back.

"Wait, I want to talk to my mum –"

"Later," he said shortly, gripping me tighter as he ducked through and we turned, hurrying down steps and into his basement. I'd never been there before; it was carpeted like the steps, couches lining the large room. Kids were running around, only narrowing missing the older kids playing board games or lounging about and talking. There was another table pushed against the wall, weighed down with even more food. "She'll still be there at the end of the night."

I wrenched my wrist out his grasp. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Good." He gave a smile to everyone, waving to them. "This is usually where we hang out," he explained, taking my hand gently this time and plopping down on the couch. "Want to play chess?"

"I guess –"

"Albus!" A girl around the same age as us with bouncing blonde curls had left her game of Gobstones with Lily and skipped across the room to us. Al's face lit up as she ruffled his hair lovingly.

"Hey Dom, how are you?"

"Wonderful," she replied with a beam, sitting down on the other side of the couch before addressing me. "Emily. I think we met once or twice?"

"I suppose," I answered with a sheepish grin. "I don't really remember you."

"That's all right!" She laughed a booming laugh. "I'm Dominique. Victoire's sister. Just another one in this clan we call a family." Al laughed and left to greet his sister.

"How's the marriage going, then?" she asked. "I helped plan the honeymoon."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Did everyone?"

"Practically. We need lives."

I laughed. "It was great, thank you so much. Say," I remembered suddenly, sitting up straighter, "did you graduate with us this year? I think I remember you, but you never got a chance to cross the stage."

"Before all hell broke loose?" She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I was there. Didn't really see you around in school, did I?"

"I guess not…" I bit my lip, looking around the room some more. There were so many faces that were familiar, but I don't think I'd ever talked to any of them during school. "I wish I'd met you guys before."

"Well." Dominique was shifting a little uncomfortably. "I might've had something to do with that."

"What?"

"It was wrong," she said hastily, looking very guilty now and avoiding my eyes. "I told my cousins and brother to stay away from your group at Hogwarts."

"You did?"

"It was wrong, and I'm really sorry," she said quickly and genuinely. "I like to think I've matured since then. I was one of those people Amy used to pick on, and I know you didn't, but I got angry at your entire group."

I couldn't believe my ears. "So you told your family to stay away from me?"

"From all of you," she clarified quietly. "I should've fixed that when you stopped hanging around them. I should've talked to you or something. Or got one of my cousins to."

"No, no…" I shook my head, still in shock. "I probably deserved it. I used to pick on people, too."

"I guess people really do change, huh?"

I glanced at Al, who was picking up where Dom left the Gobstones game. "Yeah."

"But now you're part of the family!" she exclaimed, picking up the mood and smiling at me. "I know you've only hung around with us for a little while. Have you met everyone here?"

I searched the room with my eyes. There were many familiar faces from the two weddings this summer, but I was nowhere near listing off all their names. I recognized Al's siblings – Lily as well as James, who'd only just joined the rest of us – and Rose's little brother Hugo, who was wrestling with a little kid. And Dominique.

That was it.

Whoops.

Dom was clearly fighting off a laugh at the expression on my face. "It's all right," she assured me, looking to the nearest relative. "This is my brother Louis."

I smiled at the young, skinny boy that was sitting on the couch beside ours, head buried in some book with vivid drawings on the covers. He grinned back before gesturing to his book, blonde hair flipping in his eyes.

"Do you like graphic novels?"

"He's obsessed," Dom explained, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know what that is," I told him, voice apologetic. He shrugged and went back to reading.

"Aunt Hermione introduced it to him to get him to read. Apparently the only books he would read were with pictures, and now he won't stop reading comic books and graphic novels. Oh," she exclaimed, looking down at my lap, "looks like you've got a visitor."

On my lap.

Uh huh.

A tiny little boy had evidently made it his personal mission to crawl onto the couch and onto my lap. He couldn't have been more than one years old, and he was chubby and adorable.

Despite my being a Slytherin and all, I _loved _little children.

He was wearing bright blue footie pajamas. How could you not love him?

The boy's hair was brown, but changing shades of the colour; he must've been a metamorphmagus. He rested his changing hair on my thigh and stuck his thumb in his mouth before sighing contentedly and closing his eyes.

Dom cooed softly. "Aw, he likes you."

"He's so cute," I said softly, resting my hand on his shoulder and stroking his tiny face with my thumb. "What's his name?"

"Matthew. He's Victoire's and Teddy's kid. Well," she added, reaching down and kissing the top of his head, "one of them. They had twins."

Sure enough, I looked around the room and found another baby dressed in footie pajamas – but pink ones. She was sleeping in another girl's lap, in a very similar position as Matthew.

"What's her name?"

"Rachel."

"The girl who's holding Rachel," I clarified, laughing.

"Oh, that's Molly. One of Uncle Percy's daughter. She's in Lily's year."

"What year is Lily in?"

"Seventh, now."

I remembered what Al told me about Lily. "Is she going into History of Magic?"

"Actually, she wants to go into muggle history. Says she likes it better."

I paused. "What are you going into?"

She didn't answer. I tore my eyes from the sleeping baby in my lap to find that Dom had turned a bright red, clashing with the pink earrings she was wearing.

"Astronomy."

"Oh, Al loves Astronomy…" I trailed off as her expression changed. I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

Dom was evidently a very bad liar. "Nothing."

"That was not _nothing._"

She bit her lip. "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"And by anyone…"

"I mean my parents."

I shrugged, looking back down to Matthew and stroking his hair. "Sure. I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, believe it or not."

"I haven't told anyone."

"That bad?"

"Yes." She glanced back around the room of people who weren't paying attention in the slightest. "Except for Fred. He knows. He's kind of mad at me for it, though."

"What is it?"

Dom brought her knees up to her chin, staring down at the beige carpet. "It's not that I'm not _good _at astronomy. I am. I'm just not exactly… interested in it."

I was becoming very confused. Plus, Matthew's hair was very soft, and it was distracting me. "Then why are you going into astronomy?"

"Myboyfriend."

"What?"

"My boyfriend," she admitted weakly and very guiltily. "Lysander. You know. Ravenclaw. Twin. Dirty blond hair. Slightly insane. You've met him, right?"

I snorted, thinking of the twin boys at my wedding's reception. They really liked to finish each other's sentences. "Once, I think. Were they in our year, too?"

"They're a year ahead, actually." Dom began to play with the ends of her hair, avoiding my eyes completely. "Lysander's a family friend. We started dating a couple of years ago, and a year without him at school was kind of hard."

Everything seemed to click after she admitted that.

"You're going into astronomy because Lysander is," I said in disbelief.

She bit her lip. "When you say it like _that, _it sounds worse than it is."

"Bullshit." I said it quietly so the little ones wouldn't hear, but my voice held the same force. I felt a little strange telling her off when I'd only just met her – but she was the one telling me a secret, wasn't she? I didn't understand why, but I felt like I could trust her. "It's as bad as it sounds. What do _you _want to go into?"

"I don't know."

I glared at her.

"I don't!" she protested, holding up her hands as a shield. "I honestly have no idea! I haven't a clue what I want to do with my life, and –"

"Okay, okay," I assured, chuckling. I had perfected my glare. "But that doesn't mean you have to go into Astronomy. Go to school. Take some general courses, figure out your interests –"

"But wouldn't it be perfect?" Dom's eyes glazed over and suddenly, she was in different world. "Lysander and I working together, underneath the stars, maybe going around the world –"

"Real life isn't like that."

"Yes it is!"

"No, it isn't," I disagreed gently, sliding my hands underneath Matthew's back to lift him. My legs were falling asleep. "My dad's a healer and my mum's a nurse at St. Mungo's. They married during training, but once they started working together at the hospital, things became a little tense."

"Why?" Dom asked.

I shifted Matthew's weight and cradled him in my arms, rocking back and forth. "I'm not sure. It happens to a lot of people; they just can't work with their spouses, and then they start fighting. My parents decided to work in different units altogether, and it worked out much better for them."

She shook her head, and blonde curls tumbled everywhere. "Lysander and I aren't like that."

"You could be." I kissed Matthew's nose. He sniffed. I melted inside. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know."

"I… what are you saying?" she asked, sliding her legs into a cross-legged position.

"I'm not trying to tell you want to do." She gave me a look. "Well, maybe a little. But my point is that you should study what you want, and if your relationship is strong enough, it'll last. I mean," I added, smiling, "aren't you and Lysander still together?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't that say something?"

A grin – a rather goofy one, might I add – flitted across her face. "Yeah."

I sighed. "Go snog his face off." Dom laughed.

"Thanks, Emily," she told me, jumping up from the couch. "Want to meet up later during the week? We can have butterbeer or something."

"Sounds good." Dom waved and flounced away. In a lot of ways, she was like Rose – a little girly, completely in love and totally at ease. But whereas Rose was a little hyper, a little obnoxious and excitable, Dom was a leader. Full of life. It was difficult to tell the difference.

But before I could work that out, Al distracted me by taking Dom's vacated seat.

"What're you doing with Matthew?" he asked lazily, stretching out on the couch.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I answered, my voice unsuccessfully hiding traces of amusement.

"Looks like you're smothering him."

"I'm just _holding _him, you arse."

"Same thing." Al leaned over closely to peer at the little boy, making me flush from our proximity. "Who knew within that cute little face holds a truly devil-like personality…"

My jaw dropped. "Al!"

He grinned at me. I stopped breathing. "What?"

"He's not evil!" I spluttered, inching away so that my heartbeat could resume to a normal rate. I looked back to the sleeping angel. "Look at him, he's adorable."

"His crying could kill ghosts."

"Ghosts are already dead."

"The sound alone could traumatize them into a second death."

"Not possible."

"Wanna test it?"

"Piss off, Al –"

Suddenly, a loud gasp came from behind us, interrupting me. I turned around and peeked over the couch to see a boy around five years old with blonde hair and _very_big brown eyes pointing at me with a slightly slimy finger.

"What, Chris?" Al asked, trying not to laugh.

"_YOU_," he shouted, looking horrified. "YOU SAID A BAD WORD!"

I pressed my lips together tightly, trying to keep in the chuckle ball. "Which one was that, exactly?"

If possible, his eyes became even bigger. His hands stopped pointing at me and slammed upon his lips. The next thing I knew, he ran away with muffled screams, his long red cape barely flapping behind him and threatening to trip him at any point in time.

Al and I burst out laughing. "Meet Matthew's older brother," Al told me, reaching out and taking the small child in his arms. "Chris Lupin. He's obsessed with capes."

"I gathered that," I said, beginning to laugh when Matthew started to cry. Al scowled. "Wow Al, I don't think the little guy likes you much."

"He _always _does that when I hold him," he muttered.

"Understandable, really."

"Whatever, I hate little kids," he decided, dropping Matthew back in my arms and covering his ears. "I hate the crying. Can't stand it. I've had to babysit one too many times."

"I love them," I said quietly, frowning to myself and focusing on the tears leaking out of those tiny eyes. "Shhh, Matthew. It's okay. Al really is evil. I won't let him near you."

"Shut it, Emily."

"Don't let Chris hear you say that," I teased, wiping tears with my thumb. I began to sing softly to soothe him, rocking him back and forth again, but he continued to cry. Slowly, the piercing sound worked its way through my ears, echoing louder and louder the choked sounds of the high pitched crying…

"This isn't working," I said to myself. I caught Al staring at me with a strange look on his face. "What?"

He didn't answer right away. "I've never heard you sing," he finally said, voice heavy and unusually quiet. "Not even in the shower."

"Nothing special," I said distractedly, humming a lullaby again.

"It's nice."

"What?"

"What?" Al repeated immediately, running a hand through his hair and turning away. I narrowed my eyes, but decided to drop the subject.

"Where's his mum?" I asked, carefully standing up. "Can you point her out to me?"

Instead of following suit to direct me towards the wailing baby's mother, Al decided to lie down where I'd gotten up from and stretched out on the plush couch. I kicked him.

"Al."

"Emily."

"Help me."

"I don't think so," he said, voice filled with content and eyes dropping shut. "I think I'll take a nap."

"You never take naps."

"Says you." He put his hands under the pillow. "We've only been married for a month. How would you know?"

I didn't bother to answer; Matthew has begun to cry even harder, and I _really _didn't want to be the one to change the diaper. If that was the problem, that is.

I didn't even know _how _to change a diaper, anyway.

Instead, I turned and hurried towards and up the stairs to the main floor, partially because I needed to find Matthew's mother, and partially because my cheeks were burning again. Al and I really had only been married for a month. Almost a month and a half, actually. Had we really gone through that much in such a short period of time?

Bloody hell.

When I reached the top of stairs, I pushed it out of my mind; I didn't need to worry about relationship problems when I had a small child soaking the shoulder of my shirt. I squeezed through the crowd, looking for someone who looked vaguely like Matthew.

Instead, I bumped into a very tall blue-haired man.

"I'm so sorry!" I cried, holding the baby close and checking if he was okay.

"It's all right – do you want me to take Matthew?" he asked, lips twitching as he observed me rocking him when he started crying harder. "I'm his father." I nodded helplessly and let him take over, sighing in relief when the tall man had left.

As much as I loved children, they were nerve-wracking.

"Emily!" I turned to see Harry Potter himself walking up to me holding a tray. "Have you tried any food yet?"

"No, I'm not too hungry at the moment," I answered honestly, feeling jittery. The fact that Harry Potter was my father in law still hadn't fully implanted itself in my mind. "You haven't seen my mum around, have you?"

"Oh," he said, turning to glance over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, she left about ten minutes ago."

"Oh." I felt myself deflate from dejection.

"I'm sorry – join us, will you?" he asked, tossing the enchanted tray up in the air and letting it float. "We were actually discussing the ministry, have you heard anything from them?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't been cleared yet."

"I'm not surprised," he said darkly, leading me through the crowd to the living room and sitting down next to the blue-haired man I'd bumped into. "Have you met Teddy Lupin?" Mr. Potter asked.

"In a sense," I told him, sitting down on a chair and blushing. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Teddy said, grinning at me before sticking a pacifier in Matthew's mouth. "Harry, did you get the biscuits Matthew likes?"

"They'll float their way over here," Mr. Potter said carelessly, crossing his legs and seeming completely at ease. He reminded me a lot of Al with that same carefree nature – but there was something truly genuine about him. There were still signs of the war visible upon him.

"Cheers," Teddy replied gloomily, looking around for the tray. "Matthew's difficult to shut up."

"Don't let Victoire hear you saying that."

"Or Chris," he added, chuckling.

Mr. Potter joined in laughing. "Teddy works at the Law Enforcement office at the Ministry," he told me.

Teddy snorted. "Ministry's crap right now."

"Absolutely," piped up an old wizard sitting on the couch across from me. "Should've never let Mr. Birch take over my position. He was never fit for it."

"This is Kingsley," Mr. Potter put in. The man nodded at me, and I gave a nervous smile.

"You were Minister of Magic before Mr. Birch?"

"Indeed I was," he put in heavily, sinking back against the pillows. "I'm not too healthy at the moment, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry."

"I should be the one apologizing," he insisted. "I let that scum in, didn't I?"

Mr. Potter shook his head. "I don't think he's scum. He's not doing a good job, but it's not a question of character, or morals. Mr. Birch isn't a bad person."

I felt indignant. Wasn't he trying to kill me? "Why do you say that?"

Instead of answering, he smiled mysteriously. "The ministry has been very busy lately. They haven't called you in for a while, simply because they've been trying to enforce rules. I've been trying to stop them," he reassured, a look of disappointment crossing his face, "but so far, it hasn't worked."

Teddy frowned. "What sort of rules?"

"Most of them are directed towards Death Eaters," said an old man with red hair, sitting down on the chair beside me. I recognized him as Al's grandfather. "But there are also some that have affected Hogwarts."

"Right, they've banned most subjects."

"Banned Quidditch, too."

"Clubs have to be approved."

"Didn't they get rid of the Houses?"

"Wait," I interrupted, knowing my eyes were growing incredibly wide. "This sounds like they're trying to stop people from fighting in the first place. Or trying to stop people from ganging together."

"_Exactly,_" Kingsley emphasized, looking impressed. "The ministry's afraid of the vast majority of people who don't support them."

"But then Hogwarts wouldn't really be…" I struggled to find the words. "It wouldn't be like _Hogwarts _anymore."

"Reminds me a bit of when Umbridge was around," Mr. Potter muttered darkly. There was murmur of agreement, but I ignored them; what was Mr. Birch doing? Was he against pure bloods and Death Eaters, or was he against war altogether?

And more importantly, _why _was he doing this?

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me," I mumbled politely, hurrying from the room and nearly getting smacked in the face with Teddy's tray. I squeezed through the crowd back down to the basement, the room spinning a little before me.

Because I didn't know what was happening. I liked control over my life, and for once, I thought I'd finally gotten it. But then everything was slipping out of my reach, and the constants I had in my life was changing. Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts, even if I wasn't going back there anyway. My dad was in prison. My mum had left before speaking to me.

Then there was Al, sitting upright on the couch and talking to James and Fred and laughing at something they said. Little kids were still running around – what was their place in this? What was going to happen to them? And Louis, who was about to start Hogwarts. He would never know what it was like. None of them would.

I dropped down beside Al. Ignoring his startled look, I curled up against his side and pressed my face against his side.

"Emily?"

"Just fake it," I mumbled into his shirt before looking up at him. He wasn't looking at me, but at James and Fred; they were giving us very peculiar looks. They couldn't know, though.

"You're shaking," he said quietly. He was right. I was scared out of my mind.

He didn't press further, but I noticed he kept stiff and unrelenting, not speaking to his family anymore. I stayed there, breathing in his familiarity and almost thankful that he had to fake a marriage in front of his entire family, because otherwise, he never would've let me do that. And I really needed it.

I needed control.

"I have to talk to you," Al whispered in my ear some time later after I calmed down. I opened my eyes and lifted myself from him, only to be taken by the arm and dragged to follow him. His grip was tight and painful as he searched for a room where people weren't – which was difficult. We went through the basement, finding little kids in all the corners playing Hide and Seek, so we ducked through the crowd upstairs. Al pushed into the pantry.

Only to find Dom and Lysander sucking face.

It was an image I wouldn't mind forgetting.

"Sorry!" I squeaked as Al groaned.

"Do you guys _ever _stop snogging?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes. "Out."

"You can't tell us what to do," Dom muttered as Lysander grabbed her hand and led her outside. Al disregarded her and shut the door before flicking the light on and turning to me.

"We could've just found somewhere else," I said quietly, trying to erase the image from my mind.

"Doesn't matter, they're always sneaking away to snog." Even in the dim orange-y light, Al was bloody attractive. His hair was falling into his eyes before he brushed it out, squeezing his eyes shut. "You have to stop."

The guilt was catching up to me. "I'm sorry. I just –"

"No, you can't just apologize, brush it off and do it again." His voice was hard and toneless – almost angry. I felt something curling in the pit of my stomach and squeezing tightly.

I looked down to the tiled floor. "I didn't do anything."

"You know exactly what you did."

My head snapped up, injustice screaming in my ears. "Did it ever occur to you that I never agreed to it?"

"Agreed to _what_?"

"Getting over you!" I said loudly, not caring if anyone could hear us. "I never wanted to! You practically _commanded_ me, not even telling me _why,_ and then you left me sitting in a stupid fountain and you left. You left the freaking _country._"

"Emily –"

"Why should I?" I demanded, trying to meet his eyes. "I don't have to do what you tell me. Give me a good reason. Give me _one __good __reason._"

He visibly swallowed. I could tell there was an answer lurking just underneath the surface, but there was no way he was about to release it. He wasn't going to tell me. He was going to keep playing this game of tug-of-war with himself, and I was going to keep trying to figure out which side was going to win.

"Al," I said, my voice breaking. "Did you ever like me?"

I could see him struggling to answer. I knew the truth, but it was more significant in what he would say. The reason was the most important factor in why he was doing this, and if he lied, there really was something going on. It wasn't a stupid reason. But if he told the truth…

"No."

His voice was barely a whisper, but it hit me in the chest like a bullet. It stung.

"I know you're lying." He swallowed again. "So why –"

But before I could finish, a piercing whistle had blown from outside the pantry. Al seized the opportunity to wrench the door open and hurried away from me; I followed him after a few moments of shock.

I mean, did that _actually _just happen?

I shook my head to clear it and left, flicking off the light. I found that everyone was gathered around Rose and Scorpius (who had evidently whistled). Albus was nowhere to be found.

"We have an announcement," Scorpius was saying nervously. He wrapped an arm around Rose's waist and pulled her tightly against him. Whispers broke out over the crowd.

Holy shit.

No way.

No _freaking _way.

"I'm pregnant," Rose announced quietly, smiling at her family.

There was a second of complete silence.

Then everyone was gathering around the couple and squeezing the life out of them, squealing happily and congratulating them. Rose and Scorpius were lost in the huge family, being fed cake and laughing. Fred let confetti explode from his wand.

I guess now I know why they married so early.

At last, I spotted Al – and so did Mrs. Potter, evidently. He slipped out of the room into the backyard, his mother following closely behind. I peered out the glass door, and once I was a hundred percent sure they wouldn't be able to see me, I snuck out the door into the bushes.

It was raining. Al was stomping away, jaw tight, body stiff, hands stuffed into pockets. Water splattered onto his hair, dripping onto the ends of his nose. He took off his glasses and stopped at the edge of his yard, sitting in the corner – almost hidden from view. Unless you looked closely. I could see he was breathing hard.

His mum slowly came up behind him, kneeling down wrapping her arms around her son. He didn't respond immediately, but a few minutes later, he relaxed and turned around to hug her.

"What happened?" she asked softly, kissing his cheek. He shook his head, keeping his expression blank.

"Nothing," he whispered, pulling away from her. "Don't worry about it, Mum."

"I'm a mother, it's my job to worry," she joked. He didn't smile. "Come on, Al. I'm guessing it's not about Rose's pregnancy."

"No."

"Is it work?"

"No."

"Is it Emily?"

He didn't answer. Mrs. Potter sighed and gave him another hug.

"It's not her," he answered after a moment. "Mum, she's amazing."

"Is she?"

"Yeah." His voice broke. They didn't speak after that. Mrs. Potter kept holding him. They were close – hell, that entire family was the tightest-knit family I'd ever seen. I wished I had a big family. I was envious of their endless support, endless laughter. They weren't perfect, but they were _there._And I could never be a part of the Potter-Weasley clan, even if I wanted to be.

Dom was wrong. I wasn't part of their family.

And as I sat there, peeking out from the bushes, mud digging into my toes and the rain hitting my cheeks lightly, twisting my wet hair and thinking that Al didn't respond to anger. His mother had gotten more out of him in those few seconds than I had all week, and even though it was his _mum _and of course she would be closer to him, I knew what I was doing wrong. I shouldn't have gotten angry at him.

I understood. And if I wanted him back, I couldn't demand it of him.

I needed to _win _him back.

I needed to show him I cared.

* * *

During that week before the party, I acted angry around Al because it kept me from being upset. I think he figured it out, because he let me. He let me yell at him, let me give him the cold shoulder. Then we'd have no choice but to be in the same room when we had to sleep, so he'd silently slide his arms around me. And I would let him, so I could finally relax.

I didn't understand. None of it made sense.

And so there I was, that night after the party, lying in bed and listening to his breathing mixing with the rain and thinking that he was the one I wanted to talk to – not Scorpius, not Rose, but Al. He was the one who I wanted to be around, as much as it hurt. I couldn't do what he asked. I didn't _want _to get over him.

All I wanted to do was turn around and kiss him again.

So I turned. Carefully. I didn't want to accidentally whack him in the face or something – at least, not while he was sleeping. That'd be cruel. I turned so that we were comfortably lying on our sides, his minty-toothpaste breath brushing the tip of my nose and his hair sticking up in strange places. Closing my eyes, I reached up and kissed his forehead.

He inhaled sharply and scrunched his nose, but didn't open his eyes. I sighed.

"Al?" I asked softly. He was awake. I knew he was. "I miss you."

He didn't answer. He was holding his breath.


	23. Emily: The Slide

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Emily: The Slide**

I probably needed a plan.

A _good _plan, too. Not those plans that you make that are exaggerated to the point that it isn't a plan anymore – just a fantasy. Like chasing your worst enemy with marshmallows.

No, I meant a good plan that would actually work.

Al's not a difficult person. Usually. He's funny and lazy and likes chocolate. He loves to write but I don't think he'd ever admit to how much he loves it. He hates running, but he goes anyway because he's afraid he'll go insane if he doesn't. He's practically a genius and got "Outstandings" on nearly every NEWT exam.

(He didn't tell me that. His mum did.)

How do you win back a person who already likes you?

I mean, look at it this way: after we snogged and fell in the stupid fountain, he ran back up to our hotel room. By the time I went there, he'd packed all his things and told Rose and Scorpius that he was going home early and left. In a panicked craze, we'd decided to follow him.

I knew this was serious. Whatever it was that was stopping him was obviously bothering him, so I needed to either completely ignore it… or try to figure out what it was.

I wasn't quite sure which one was better.

* * *

"You're a hypocrite!"

"Al, stop it."

"Emily, stay out of this!"

"I am not a hypocrite," Scorpius countered, folding his arms across his chest and entirely disregarding my justification for him. "Rose is pregnant. It's not a question of hypocrisy –"

"How can you say that?" Al demanded loudly. His voice was echoing in the depths of the small house, probably waking a soundly sleeping Rose. He leveled up to Scorpius, who was standing over by the coffee machine in the kitchen. It was quite sad, really; Al was shorter than Scorp, so it looked rather like a little kid trying to face his bully. He looked menacing enough, though.

It was kind of hot.

"Al," I said gently, walking beside him and touching his shoulder. He shrugged my hand away. I crossed my arms and leaned back against the opposite counter. "Scorpius isn't a hypocrite. I'm sure Rose got pregnant _after _they got married –"

"They didn't!" he spat, not taking his eyes off Scorpius. I began to wonder why Albus was so angry; it wasn't as if any of this was bothering him the night before. "Tell me, Malfoy, what was the real reason you decided to propose to my cousin?"

My best friend kept his face passive, voice smooth. He was an expert. "Potter, I don't believe that's any of your business."

"Rose is my _cousin._" Al's eyes were flashing, body started to shake. "Who is Emily to you?"

"My best friend. My sister."

I felt a rush of affection towards him. It didn't seem to affect Al whatsoever; he took out his wand and held it at Scorpius' chest.

He didn't flinch. "Off, Potter."

"Tell me you didn't get her pregnant while we were at Hogwarts." Al's voice was low, almost a whisper. I felt a shiver go down my spine; I didn't think I ever saw him so angry before. And yet, it wasn't really anger… it was more like desperation.

"Don't lie. Tell me she wasn't pregnant before your wedding. Tell me you didn't use your baby as an excuse to stay out of jail."

It was as if the entire world had gone quiet. My awareness heightened and I vaguely head the sounds that I didn't normally pay attention to – the whirr of the fans, the slight grumbling of the coffee machine. But I barely heard it.

He didn't do that.

He couldn't have.

Scorp belonged in Slytherin. Sure, he knew about the ministry's downfall, but he couldn't have _predicted _what was going to happen. From what I understood, Rose had been pregnant since June, and as soon he found out, he proposed.

He didn't get Rose pregnant to get his family out of jail. He didn't.

But that one hit him hard. I felt my breath catch in my throat as Scorpius' eyes widened for just a second, his cover momentarily slipping. It was quicker than a flash of lightning, but I knew Al caught it, too.

Merlin, please no.

Scorpius let out a breath, defeated. My stomach sank. "That wasn't the plan."

"You _fucking _hypocrite." Scorpius winced as Al pressed his wand tighter to his chest. "What did you do? Drop down on one knee as soon as you heard the news? You weren't planning to propose for years, were you?"

"Shut up," the blond snarled, narrowing his eyes again. He was slipping up more. Showing emotion. "I'm in love with her."

"That doesn't make it right."

"It's more than I could say for you."

"You're not getting the point, Malfoy," Al said loudly. He pushed his wand even closer. "You've been giving me shit for over a month! You told me that I wasn't good enough for Emily!"

"You said that?" I asked in disbelief.

Scorpius didn't meet my eyes. "You're not!"

"Who are you tell me anything?" Al dropped his wand, still shaking. His eyes closed, and he was breathing hard. "Look, you're in love with Rose. I get that. And now you're married, so the baby won't have a screwed up life without a father. But you're not ready for it!"

"I –"

"Especially since you're immature enough to keep _this _from us!" His eyes snapped open and he strode over to the dining table, running his hand underneath it and snapping something open. The next thing I knew, a magically hidden drawer was being yanked out from underneath the table, and Al reached into the depths to grab at the piles of papers there.

He slammed the paperwork on the table. We neared it, almost frightened to approach the papers that had angered Al so much. Scorpius got there first.

He turned pale.

"Shit," he muttered, fingering the edge of the papers and glancing at Al. His voice was apologetic. "Potter, I –"

"When were you and Rose going to tell us that we can't pay the bills, _and _we're selling the house?"

My insides went cold. Here was my best friend and my husband (that felt weird to say, even in my mind) arguing about babies and secrets and selling houses and bills. How could Scorpius do something like this? He told me everything. He'd always done that.

Things were changing, and I didn't like it.

But now it made sense, why Al was practically attacking Scorpius. I was in too much shock to be angry, but Al made up for it. He was furious.

And for what?

Scorpius _lied _to us.

Al was glaring at Scorpius, waiting for an answer. Once it was clear that Scorpius had nothing to say but an apology he wasn't willing to give, the same one that Al would never accept, Al left. Quietly.

No stomping or groaning.

He just left, leaving an air of disappointment and guilt.

I'll admit it: I was impressed.

Scorpius turned to me as soon as the front door shut, but I wasn't having it. "Emily, I –"

"No," I told him, shaking my head and looking away. "You never tell anyone they don't deserve a person unless you're ready to hear it yourself."

Scorpius let go of his demeanor completely. His face contorted into what he felt – sadness, guilt and desperation. His face was red, and I'm sure if I touched it, I would find it burning. But I didn't want to touch him. How could he say that to Al, when those were the words that David told me?

"Emily," he begged, grabbing my arm as I turned to leave. "I'm so sorry."

"Scorpius…" I shook off his hand. "I understand why you didn't want to tell me about Rose's pregnancy. That's between you two. But why didn't you tell me that we couldn't pay the bills? When _were _you planning on telling us that we would be homeless?"

"Soon. I swear –"

"Scorp, you already found a place for you and Rose. I know you." His face fell.

I didn't understand. He was my best friend, point-blank hiding things from me that he didn't need to hide. And the worst part was that I was also absolutely sure there was some break in our friendship. One that I never thought would happen.

So this time, when I tried to leave, he didn't stop me.

* * *

I found Al down the street in a park. I knew he would be there, since he didn't take his wand and this was the only place he would be without apparating. It was too early for any children to be out yet (it was only six-thirty in the morning, after all), so Al was lounging on the top of one of the slides.

He was on the red slide (of course). It was a beautiful day, really; already warm and breezy. Cloudy as usual, but I could still see the sweat on the top of Al's brow. He'd run there, I could see that much. He was trying to calm himself down from the argument.

His eyes followed me as I crossed the sandy playground and climbed the tiny stairs to the slide, but he didn't move. I joined him on the wide slide, snuggling in between his leg and the left side of the slide and taking his hand. He didn't stop me.

"You're right," I said softly. "I'm on your side."

"I don't think that's the point."

I leaned against his side. I was vaguely aware of the fact that we were both still wearing pajamas. I was wearing house slippers with strawberries on them. Al had thrown on trainers. "I just thought it might help ease the anger, knowing someone agreed."

"I suppose." His jaw was tight. "I just don't see what's the point of keeping secrets like that. Why did he punch me, Emily?"

"Probably because you reminded him of what he did."

"That's not fair."

"I know." I watched as birds hopped along the edge of the sand, poking around for food. They chirped happily. "You're right, he's a hypocrite. But everyone makes mistakes. People you trust let you down sometimes. It happens."

"I suppose." He was silent, watching the birds as well, but thinking. After a moment, he said, "but he's right. I don't deserve you."

"Al –"

"No, let me explain." I turned to him, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. "You're right, too. I never gave you a reason to why I told you to get over me, and I should have."

My expression softened. "You understand?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "That was wrong of me."

"It was. It hurt."

"I'm sorry."

We fell silent again, listening to the birds singing. A slight breeze was picking up. I shifted so I could hear Al's heartbeat. It was soothing, almost; the thump was steady. Calm.

"I don't want to get over you, Al," I admitted.

He didn't look at me. "It's for your own good."

"Are you going to explain why?"

"I can't." He leaned his head back on the play structure, on the bar above the slide. "I can't talk about it."

"In a literal sense?"

"Yeah."

I nodded, trying to keep my anxiousness at bay. "Okay. I understand."

Al's eyes flicked to me. "So you'll try to get over me?"

"Not a chance."

He scowled. I stuck out my tongue and collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"Let's be friends again," Al decided, turning to me hopefully. His hand squeezed mine tighter. "Please?"

I shrugged. It was good enough for Al, apparently, since he leaned back on the bar again, closing his eyes and smiling. I, on the other hand, didn't want to be his friend. I wanted to be more than that.

Guess I better keep working on it.

"I should've explained myself yesterday," I said quietly, resting my head back on his side. "For what I did during the party."

"You mean that whole sleeping on me thing?" he asked without opening his eyes. "What was that about? You were shaking like mad and all pale."

"I was talking to your dad." I felt Al perk up slightly. "I sort of joined in on his conversation with Teddy and Kingsley and your grandfather. They were talking about the ministry."

Al tensed. "It's been almost three weeks since you father was put in Azkaban."

"Yeah, my mum left before I could speak to her about any of it." Al shifted guiltily, but I went on. "Anyway, they were talking about the fact that they've put hearings for people on hold. Like us. Instead, they've passed a bunch of laws."

"Oh…" I turned to look at him. His face was screwed up in recognition, his eyes still closed. "_Those._I remember them."

"You… you heard about those?"

"A few," he admitted. "The ones about Hogwarts. I guess I just forgot to tell you."

I opened my hand in his, turning it over and running the tips of my fingers against his palm. If it tickled, he didn't show it. "It scared me. It's like everything I know is spinning out of control."

"And then I yelled at you for… _shit_." Al opened his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I thought you were just taking advantage of the situation. You know, since we had to fake it last night."

"We didn't _have _to."

Al let out a frustrated breath. "I swear to Merlin, Emily, I have a good reason."

"Can I help?" I asked, straightening up hopefully. "I mean, maybe we can fix whatever it is."

"I've already tried. We can't."

So it was something we _could _try to fix.

I moment passed before I spoke again. "Are you mad at Rose?"

"A little. Angrier at Malfoy."

I sighed, burying my face in his shoulder. "I can't believe we're moving again. I was starting to like it here."

"Me too." Al dropped his head on my head and closed his eyes. We were leaning against each other, and for the most part, we were both awake. _Progress_! "I found the papers this morning, when you guys were still asleep. Couldn't believe that they didn't even tell us."

"They already found an apartment they could afford, didn't they?"

"Of course."

So I _was _right.

Somehow, it didn't make me feel any better.

"Doesn't make any sense," I mumbled. "We own the house, too. I don't even know how they were able to get it back on sale."

"Muggle house, muggle papers. Easy to jinx."

"Why didn't they tell us?" I asked more clearly, feeling a pang in my chest. "They're our best friends. We didn't even notice Rose was pregnant. But," I added, remembering, "they have their own bathroom. Easy to hide morning sickness. And it's been two months, she wouldn't have started showing yet."

Al groaned. His breath tickled the back of my neck. "I don't want Rose to be pregnant."

"What are we going to do when _I__'__m _supposed to start showing?"

"Maybe it won't come to that."

"What, _tell _them?" I straightened up, and he lifted his head to look at me. His eyes were slightly bloodshot. Did he fall asleep after I told him I missed him? Somehow, I doubted it.

"We could tell them," he said slowly, thinking. "You're not actually pregnant. We married to get your family out of shit at the ministry."

"And we fancy each other?" I raised an eyebrow at him when he flinched. "How do you explain that?"

"You're supposed to be getting over me."

"Al," I said impatiently, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes, "it's obvious. We're always touching each other. You're always kissing my cheek."

I was kind of enjoying the fact that his face was turning a bright red.

"I am not."

"Really, Al?"

He was unrelenting, avoiding my eyes. "Really."

"So you're saying…" I turned and faced him, bringing on knee over his so I was in between his legs. Al swallowed. "You never do anything like this?"

"No."

"What about this?" I leaned in, tilting my head. As soon as my lips touched his neck, his entire body tensed and froze. I couldn't hear him breathing anymore. His eyes squeezed shut.

"No." His voice was strained and he smelled like cinnamon. It was as through the tables had completely turned; Al had tried to seduce me in Rome. That's exactly what he was doing.

And that's what I was doing now.

"How about..." I grasped his shoulders gently and skimmed my lips along his throat, pressing a kiss on the right side of his neck. I thought I felt him shudder. "This?"

"Emily, stop."

"Admit it," I mumbled against his skin.

"No."

"Al –" Before I could say anything else, he'd taken my hands off his shoulders pushed me away. I slid backwards, and the next thing I knew, I had slid down to the bottom of the plastic slide and landed in the sand.

Sand was kind of wet from the rain, too.

"You didn't have to do that," I muttered, standing and rubbing my bottom and thighs to remove the sand sticking to my pajamas. Al didn't answer, but jumped down the side of the jungle gym.

"Friends," he begged when he approached me.

"What if I don't want that?"

"I don't us want to hate each other," he said softly before heading back in the direction of our soon-to-be-someone-else's-home. I groaned.

He had a point.

Besides, my timing was off. Rookie mistake. It was too soon for seducing him to work, since we'd only just snogged a week ago. He was angry and something was bothering him. And I wasn't going to think about rejection, because that would hurt the most.

Whatever. Now I know that kissing his neck is his weakness.


	24. Emily: The Chococheese

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Emily: The Chococheese**

I woke up to the sound of someone speaking. Very loudly. In fact, it was more like moaning than speaking. Very loudly. Like a low rumbling. Very loudly. Moaning low rumblings of rambling. Very loudly. In my ear.

Did I mention it was _loud_?

_What the hell_? I thought as I opened my eyes. A searing light that could only be known as the sun immediately blinded my vision, and I quickly grimaced. My primary reflex was to bury my face in Al's chest. Obviously.

(WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO ME?)

That didn't last long, I assure you. Partly because he wasn't wearing a shirt. Awkwaaard. But really, I moved because of the fact that his chest was vibrating because he was moaning again. And that was quite uncomfortable.

He sounded like he was in distress. Whatever was going on in his dream seemed to be seriously scaring him, and I wondered if he was having a nightmare. _If he's having a nightmare, then I should wake him, right_?

But then he started talking.

And he definitely wasn't awake.

"This is a conspiracy," he said, very business-like. "The most prudent event in all of history, and it's gone to shambles. What is the state of the Wizarding World coming to? When will the hypocrisy end?"

Wow. Al was ridiculously articulate when he was asleep.

"IT CANNOT BE CALLED CHOCOCHEESE!" he shouted, and I jumped. "CHEESE AND CHOCOLATE COMBINATIONS ARE SIMPLY NOT ALLOWED!"

I couldn't help myself; I quickly turned and buried my mouth into the pillow to muffle my laughter. I think I accidentally nudged Al with my elbow or something when I flipped over, because the next thing I knew, he was awake and shaking me.

"Emily, are you okay? Are you having a nightmare?"

No, Al, I was not having a nightmare. I was merely becoming hysterical at your imagination.

I should really read his writing one day.

I sat up and turned around to look at him, pushing hair out of my face and still giggling. Al's expression went from worried to confused, and I didn't blame him; from waking up to almost crying most mornings and then seeing laughter, this was probably strange for him.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked, perplexed. His eyebrows were scrunched together. It was so freaking adorable.

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about?" He shook his head, and I collapsed back on the pillows, laughing. "You were talking in your sleep."

He groaned. "Please tell me you're joking."

"If you want me to lie, sure."

"_Crap_," he moaned, closing his eyes. Blush crept up his neck. "What did I say?"

"Well..." I propped myself up on my elbow, scrutinizing his expression. "Some big words. Do you normally use better language in your unconsciousness?"

He ignored my jibe. "What did I talk about?"

I grinned. He winced. "Tell me, Al. What do you think of the combination of cheese and chocolate?"

"Like cheesecake?"

"I don't think so. You talked about some sort of invention called 'Chococheese.'"

He opened his eyes. "Bloody hell."

"Unoriginal name if you ask me."

"Thank Merlin," he groaned, looking so relieved that I started laughing again. "You made it sound as though it was something bad."

"Like what?" I teased, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

"Like... _hey!_" I started laughing as he understood my implication. He turned a bright red and turned to bury his face in his pillows.

"I understand if you have those kind of dreams. It's okay," I said in a mockingly soothing voice, running my hand through his hair for effect. And, you know, because I wanted to. It's soft.

"Shut up," he grumbled, turning back around. "I can't control what I dream."

"Oh, Al..." I leaned over to kiss his forehead. His eyes snapped to mine. "I'm only joking. You just woke me up, you were really loud about it." He didn't say anything. Just stared at me with his wide, green eyes. I smiled. "It was really cute."

He squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation. "I am _not _cute."

"A little."

"Not at all. _Manly._"

"That too, I suppose."

He groaned yet again. "When did this conversation cross the friend zone?"

"The part when we shared a bed. Maybe when you took off your shirt." He rolled his eyes and lay on his back, bringing his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. I could see him trying not to smile. I shook my head. "Good morning."

"Morning, Emily," he said, his eyes fluttering shut. "What are you doing today?"

"Going to work, like you," I answered, glancing at the clock. "We should probably get ready." I got up and headed to the closet, beginning to gather my things for the day. "Need the shower?"

"Not yet." He opened his eyes. "By the way, Malfoy wants us home by four to start cleaning. Apparently someone wants to look at the house."

I moved aside some hangers, biting my lip. "Are you still angry at him?"

"A bit." He sat up and reached for his shirt, which was hanging on the bedpost. "Where are we going to live? Should we look for a flat, like they did?"

"I'm not sure..." I came back into the room and sat next to him. He poked his face out from the head hole of his shirt. "I mean, there aren't any other choices, are there? Is there anywhere you have in mind?"

"Not yet," he repeated.

I smoothed out the clothes in my lap. "I feel like an adult."

"Me too." He smiled, and my heart sped up a little. "It's kind of a funny feeling."

In more ways than one.

(My hearts does funky things around him.)

* * *

"Oi! Emily! Wait up!" I turned to see Rose running towards me, waving and ducking through people until she reached me, breathless. "Hey."

"Hey, Rose," I said cautiously, not sure if she was going to yell at me for happened the day before or hug me. You never know with her. "What's up?"

"Going to lunch?" I nodded. "Mind if I join?"

"No - I mean, of course you can." We walked in an unusually awkward silence on our way to the cafeteria. Truthfully speaking, I wasn't mad at her or Scorpius. Sure, I was disappointed that they hadn't let us in on the fact that Al and I were going to be homeless soon, but they probably had a good reason. Whatever it was.

"So, how are you doing?" I asked once we sat down at an empty table. I watched as Rose took out her thermos of soup. "I didn't see you this morning."

"I had to come to work early and talk to our boss," she replied, voice neutral. "Let her know that I have an ultrasound this afternoon."

"How far along are you?" I asked as I unwrapped my sandwich.

"A bit more than three months."

"Wow." I smiled, reminiscing. "I can't believe we didn't notice you had morning sickness. Or notice why you never ate any of the food in Rome. Or how -"

"Emily, I'm really sorry I didn't tell you," she said in a rushed voice. She didn't let me interrupt. "I wanted to tell you and Al. After all, you guys told us, didn't we? But Scorpius was afraid you guys would assume what Al assumed yesterday, and maybe it was sort of true, but I think it's deeper than that. And I really want this baby, and the house, and I don't know how I'm going to survive eight years of Healing school -"

"Rose?" I got up and went to the other side of the table to put an arm around her. "Breathe. It's going to be okay."

"I'm an awful cousin," she wailed, her pregnancy hormones finally catching up to her. I think she had worked so hard and long to hide them that she was just letting loose now that everyone knew. "Forget that, I'm an awful cousin-in-law and best friend!"

"You're not -"

"I feel awful!" she wailed, if possible, even more loudly. I glanced around the cafeteria and realized people were starting to stare. "Everyone's mad at me, and it's my fault, all my fault -"

"Rose, shut up before I make you," I muttered, wrapping my sandwich and shutting her thermos before pulling her up from the bench by her arm. "Come on, let's go outside."

Better than sobbing about it in the middle of a hospital cafeteria.

Once we'd made it out of the building, Rose threw her arms around me and burst into tears. I rubbed her back soothingly, trying to ignore all the funny looks we were getting from people passing by.

"I'm so s-s-sorry," she choked out. Her tears began to seep through my uniform.

"Shhh, it's honestly not your fault," I said quietly. "Al assumed a bunch of things yesterday. He's mad at Scorpius, not you." I narrowed my eyes at a tall man passing by, snickering at the hysterical girl. I flipped him the bird.

Rose sniffed loudly as she leaned back, rolling on the balls of her feet. "I think I should explain everything. I don't want you guys thinking we don't care." And before I could protest, she took me by the wrist and led me to the benches outside the building.

"Okay," she said as I unwrapped my sandwich again (I was rather hungry, you know). She took a deep breath. "I found out I was pregnant a few months ago. Obviously it was an accident, but I wanted to keep it and Scorpius said he would help out..."

I swallowed a bite of my food. "I know Scorpius was planning to ask you to marry him in a few years. He loves you a lot, and he would never get you pregnant to save his family. He's just not that person." I looked away. "I don't know why Al doubts that."

"Maybe he's jealous."

"Of the two of you?"

"Of you and Scorpius," she clarified impatiently. "Why would he be jealous of me and Scorpius?"

"He could be jealous of what you two have," I contemplated, "considering he apparently doesn't like what we have. He keeps telling me that I need to get over him."

"Why?"

"I don't know." I took another bite of my sandwich. Rose looked at me thoughtfully.

"Maybe it's because of what he and Holly had." My gaze snapped in her direction as she reached for her thermos and unscrewed the lid. As she dipped her spoon in her soup, she looked back to me, raising her eyebrows. "What?"

I felt as though my heart was racing a marathon. Find the answer first. "What did Al and Holly have?"

"A screwed up relationship."

"But… I mean, he doesn't have it anymore," I reasoned, racking my brain. "So why would he be jealous?"

"Oh." Rose swallowed. "Al thinks that Holly sort of ruined every future relationship for him. Do you think bananas would taste good in tomato soup?"

I stared at her, not comprehending a word she was saving. "Is she blackmailing him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then _why_?" I exclaimed incredulously, slamming my sandwich down in my lap. "Isn't it _him _who's ruining what's going on between our relationship? Why is he comparing me to Holly?"

Rose snorted. "Al's not comparing you to Holly, I promise. He likes you a lot more than he ever liked her." She smacked her lips. "I really think bananas would do well in this!"

I ignored her cravings. I felt as though there was something sinking in the pit of my stomach; how could Rose be absolutely sure that it wasn't exactly what Al was doing? Maybe Rose was lying, and Holly really was blackmailing him. Or what if Al was in love with Holly, and I was getting in the way?

No, he couldn't be. Then he'd be with her, not me.

Nothing made sense anymore.

"Hey," Rose said tenderly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "It's not the end of the world. He'll come around."

I leaned my head on her shoulder. "I don't understand, Rose. He told me he fancied me, and then spent our whole honeymoon trying to get me to like him back. And now I do, and then I kissed him, and then he ran away."

"He's a prat."

"He wants to be friends," I said sadly. "I don't know why. It would work out. We could even take veritaserum and get my father out of prison." I lifted my head to look at Rose. "We could be like you and Scorpius. In love."

She didn't say anything. She probably didn't know what to say.

I thought back to earlier in our conversation. "Are you really jealous of me and Scorpius? I mean, you're having a baby with him."

"I was," she admitted, and I felt like shaking her. I never understood how people thought Scorpius and I were together. We hugged, sure, but we never clung to each other, flirted… we weren't even that close anymore, despite the fact that we were now living in the same house. Rose sensed my frustration and quickly added, "But I'm not anymore."

"Good," I grumbled, picking up my sandwich and taking another bite out of it. "This is getting ridiculous. Al has no need to be jealous of Scorpius when I practically molested his neck yesterday."

Rose spit out her soup.

"What the hell?" she said, bringing a hand up to her mouth and giggling. I shrugged, unsuccessfully holding back my grin.

"Trying to break him down."

"I'm sure Al enjoyed it." Rose screwed the lid back onto the thermos. "So you're not mad at me or Scorpius?"

"Nah. Just wish you'd told us," I stated matter-of-factly, trying my best not to guilt-trip her. I finished off my sandwich. "Say, where are you moving? We could be neighbours!"

"I dunno, Scorp figured that out."

"Let me know, will you?" She nodded guiltily.

"I will."

I stood up and looked back; she was still sitting there, evidently struggling to tell me something. I rolled my eyes. "Just spit it out."

"Do you… do you want to come to my ultrasound with me?" she asked uneasily. My mouth fell open, and she hastily backtracked. "You don't have to if you don't want to! It's just a checkup, and Scorpius' captain wouldn't let him off work –"

"I'd love to come!" I said happily, feeling giddy. I'd never been to one an ultrasound before, and I wanted to support Rose. Even through a checkup.

"Really?"

"Hell yes!"

She bit her lip. "How did yours go? You've been to one by now, right?"

My eyes involuntarily widened for a second. Shit. I was pregnant, too. "Umm. Yes, of course. Not – not at the hospital, though," I lied, switching from one foot to another. "Didn't want my dad to find out."

"Oh."

"When is it?" I asked, checking the time. "I should ask the boss to let me off –"

"No need," Rose told me as she stood. She grinned. "I already asked."

* * *

Gel.

That's all I could stare at. I was sitting at the side of Rose's fancy reclining chair, watching as the nurse squirted and spread the blue gel on Rose's steadily growing stomach with some sort of sponge that didn't absorb anything. I could see Rose trying not to laugh. Was it ticklish?

"Okay, watch the screen," the nurse commanded, tapping Rose's now blue gel-covered tummy with her wand. It glowed a bright electric blue – if I touched it, I was sure I would get shocked – and suddenly, the screen in front of us lit up.

_Whoa._

At first, the screen was black as the magic communicated. Then, out of nowhere, we heard breathing – Rose's breathing. Her chest fell up and down, matching the sound. And then, slowly, black and white lines and blobs and shapes began to appear.

Rose's jaw dropped as it came into view. It was only three inches long. We could see the torso and a head with tiny leg and arm buds.

It was incredible.

I'm pretty sure Rose wasn't breathing anymore – hell, _I _wasn't breathing. I moved a hand to her arm and squeezed it.

"Rose," I whispered, "that's your baby."

She gave a nervous chuckle. "I know." She was in absolute awe. There was a baby inside of her. A _baby._And according to the nurse, it was healthy.

Rose would start growing much bigger now. She wouldn't feel so tired or have such severe mood swings, and morning sickness would start to go away. She'd find out the baby's sex in the next appointment. I had no idea how Rose dealt with everything so well for the last three months.

"Can I – can we have a minute alone, please?" she asked. The nurse smiled and nodded. As soon as the door shut behind her, Rose burst into tears.

"Oh, Rose," I said gently, standing to give her a hug. "Isn't this amazing?"

"Merlin," she gasped, wiping her eyes. "Oh Merlin, oh my freaking _Merlin, _it's really in there!" I laughed.

"What were you expecting, a goat?"

"No!" She gave a watery chuckle. "Merlin, Emily. I don't think I'm ready for this."

"I don't think you really have a choice at this point," I told her, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, you have a _huge _family to support you. And Scorpius would never abandon you."

She snorted. "He didn't come today."

"This was just a check up. He won't miss the next one for the world."

"How can you be sure?" she asked, sitting up and looking in my eyes. She'd been worrying about this, I could tell. "What if he decides that he doesn't want this after all? What if he decides to pack up and leave?"

I struggled for words. "Rose, he _loves _you."

"Is that enough?"

I sighed. "Look, you're both seventeen. It's really early, but you're both married, you have a house or at least a place to stay. You know how to cook. Scorpius is always around."

She bit her lip. "I don't know…"

"You're going to be a great mother," I promised, hugging her. "You'll finish school and have this baby and Al and I will babysit along with everyone else. Everything will be fine."

Rose chuckled into the crook of my neck. "You're not pregnant, are you?" I froze.

How did she know?

"Don't worry," she whispered, letting go of me. "I won't tell Scorpius."

I swallowed and nodded, eyes wide and locked to her tired ones. I didn't know how she figured it out, or if she eavesdropped, or if Al had told her… but she was definitely going to be a good mother. Bloody hell. Maybe eyes were already growing at the back of her head.

"I didn't want to lie to you," I said nervously, stepping back and fidgeting. "I swear."

She settled back and watched her baby on the screen. "Just let me know what's going on you're ready, okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you love Al?"

I looked away. "Not sure. Maybe. It's only been two months."

Rose's breathing from the monitor filled the room, steady and soft. Her expression was tender as she watched the black-and-white lines on the screen. "I think I already love this baby," she admitted.

I smiled. "I'd be surprised if you didn't."

* * *

"How'd it go? What'd it look like? Is the baby healthy? What –"

"Oi, calm down Scorp," I said, laughing and slapping him on the back as I passed. We'd just gotten home after Rose had wiped off all the gel (I touched it. It was ticklish. And sort of cold. So _weird_) and stopped crying (tears of joy, I think) and found Al and Scorpius cleaning the living room in an extremely awkward silence.

I wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"It went well," Rose confirmed, standing on her toes to kiss Scorpius. "Healthy. You have to come to the next appointment, we find out if it's a boy or a girl."

Scorpius dropped the duster on the carpet and scooped her up in his arms. "I think it's a girl," he whispered. I suddenly looked away uncomfortably, feeling like I was intruding on something intimate.

"Let's go clean the kitchen," I whispered to Al. He nodded gratefully.

It was definitely a relief when we got in there; Al let out a huge sigh of relief from not being in the same room as Scorpius anymore. I turned to him. "Rose knows I'm not pregnant."

He froze, as I did. "You _told _her?"

"No, she figured it out," I said, turning to the dishes. "She said she wouldn't tell Scorpius. You were wrong, by the way," I added crossly, frowning at a plate. "He didn't do any of those things you assumed. The baby was a mistake. He didn't use Rose at all."

Al grumbled unhappily, reaching over the take the wet dish from my hand and drying it with a dishcloth. "I just said a bunch of things because I was mad. It's not my fault he didn't deny any of it."

"Control your anger."

He snorted. "You haven't seen me angry," he declared, beginning to stack plates as he dried my washed dishes. "Trust me, Emily. There's a reason I try to let things go."

I remembered. When I first met him, he didn't seem to care about anything – nor did he try. It really was a mystery to why he did in Rome – as in, actually show affection for me. I didn't realize that it was unusual for him.

"When I first met you," I began, "you told me I should care. That it's good for me."

"I'm pretty smart."

"Why don't you take your own advice?"

He paused. "Why are we doing dishes the muggle way?"

"Al, don't try to change the subject." He ignored me and waved his wand; immediately, the dishes were spotless and sent into cabinets. Another flick, and the counters were clean as well.

"I can't imagine being a muggle," he said wearily, pocketing his wand and opening the fridge, also peeking out into the living room. Rose and Scorpius were snogging. Al took out the carton of orange juice. "To think we'd actually have to do all the cleaning ourselves."

I rolled my eyes and took the juice from him before he chugged it straight from the carton. I took out a glass. "Fine. I wanted to tell you something."

"What?"

I poured the juice and gave it to him before propping myself up on the counter. I didn't meet his questioning eyes. "I was thinking… to maybe visit my father in prison."

He blinked. "You want to go to Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to come… _with _you?" I shook my head.

"Not if you don't want to," I said hastily. "I was thinking of asking my mum. I didn't get to talk to her, and I really want to check up on how my dad's doing…" I looked up to his horrified face. "I completely understand if you don't want to."

He took a swing of juice. "If you need me there, I'll come." I felt a rush of gratitude.

"Thank you." I swung my legs a little. "Do you think they'll let me? They've been so prejudiced against Death Eater families lately, and I wouldn't see a problem, but –"

"I can talk to my dad if they don't," Al interrupted, the corners of his mouth turning down in disapproval. "Write to the ministry tonight. Make sure."

I smiled. "Thanks, Al," I said, sliding down from the counter. "We should probably finished tidying up. There's a showing for the house tomorrow, right?"

* * *

We spent the rest of the night cleaning, only taking a small break to eat dinner. I never realized that in a month of living in that house, things could get so messy; clothes and books and random objects were everywhere. Little decorations had to be straightened. We never vacuumed the carpets or swept the floors. Dust was _everywhere._

By the time we were finished and I had written to the ministry, I was exhausted. All thoughts of finding a flat after cleaning flew out of my mind and the only thing I could think of that it would take a _lot _of work to pack up all our things again.

"I'm dead," Al announced as he collapsed beside me on the bed. He smelled of toothpaste. "Put me in a coffin and bury me."

"That was karma," I replied. "We didn't clean this house for a month."

"Do we have mice?"

"I bloody well hope not."

He paused. "My Uncle Ron had a pet rat. It turned out to be Peter Pettigrew."

I laughed and shut off the lights with my wand. "Your father and uncle and aunt had a talent for attracting trouble, didn't they?"

"Of course," he exclaimed indignantly, smiling as he took off his glasses. He'd closed his eyes when I snuggled up beside him. To my surprise, instead of wrapping his arms around me and saying goodnight like he usually did, he stiffened.

"What's wrong?" I asked sleepily.

"We can't do this anymore," he said loudly, pushing me away from him and scrambling off the bed. I opened my heavy eyelids to see him pacing frantically, hands pulling at his hair from the scalp.

"I don't understand."

"_This,_" he gestured wildly with his arms. "It's like… we were dating. And now we've broken up, but we still have to stay together."

I tried to make sense of his frustrated expression, outlined in moonlight.

"It's like you said this morning," he clarified further. "It crossed the friend zone when we shared a bed. We can't do that anymore."

"But… we've had this conversation before," I realized. "Neither of us is willing to sleep on the couch. We just… end up like this," I said sheepishly, referring to the spooning every night.

We stared at each other. He was thinking feverishly, desperately – almost hysterically. Something was bothering him, intimidating him to the point where he was losing control. It seemed that he hadn't told anyone, not even Rose, even if she had a vague idea.

It had something to do with Holly and how they screwed up so badly. I knew that much.

But before I could ask him about it, he pointed his wand at the bed and split it in two.


	25. Albus: The Wounded

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Albus: The Wounded**

There comes a time in your life when there's one person that makes you forget everything. Emily's frighteningly good at that. When first realized I fancied her (and told her), I didn't even stop to think why I hadn't dated anyone for two years. It was as if I was so caught up and distracted by her, in being friends and pushing for more. She's just so hilarious and cute and amazing that I was stuck in a daze.

I don't think you understand how difficult it was to resist her. Everything just makes me want to snog the living daylights out of her – how she twists her hair when she's nervous, how she's so comfortable around me… and her _laugh._It's bloody addicting.

Everything about her just pulled me in this sort of fog where I couldn't remember anything – it was just Emily, Emily, Emily, and her freaking smile and how she left my skin tingling every time she kissed me and the way it felt like my insides were ripping open whenever I pushed her away, because she just looked so wounded.

Like when I split the bed in half.

Merlin, if I knew _that _was going to happen, I never would've done it.

It's just that she fell asleep way faster than I did, and when we first came back from Rome, she wouldn't be _able _to sleep unless I held her. She would shake from anger, and instead of being a mighty Gryffindor and shit and facing up to it, I held her. And she calmed down.

But then _I _couldn't sleep. I'd been thinking too much lately. More than I'm used to, anyway. And trust me, when you have someone sleeping in your arms looking like a bloody _angel, _your thoughts tend to stray towards her, and how peaceful and not-angry she looks. Then before I knew it, I would subconsciously push hair out of her eyes and kiss her cheek while she was sleeping.

That had to stop.

And thanks to my brilliant plan, I was stuck sleeping in a much smaller bed without blankets (I let Emily have them. She always hogs them, anyway) and silently talking to the ceiling. I knew she wasn't asleep, but I had a feeling if I talked to her right then, she'd kill me. Either physically or with that same hurt expression. Bloody hell.

The ceiling was unresponsive, as usual.

Me: So I shouldn't tell her, right?

Ceiling:

Me: Because that would be ridiculous, of course. I mean, she doesn't need to know.

Ceiling:

Me: It's just that she looks so sad. And if she knew why, maybe she'd agree.

Ceiling:

Me: But what if she _doesn't _agree? What if she keeps trying to win me back? It'll just make things worse!

Ceiling:

Me: Bloody hell, what if she snogs me? I'll never keep my resolve!

Ceiling:

Me: Merlin, you're no help.

I glanced back to her bed. She wasn't really that far – about a metre away – but she _felt _far away. She was lying on her back as well, hair spilling all over her pillow, chest rising and falling with her breathing.

I felt so bad.

"Emily?" I whispered, hating how my voice stuck in my throat. _Man up, Al, man up._

She took a moment to respond, but she did. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

I could tell she wasn't expecting that. After my countless attempts for the past week to push her away from me, why would I apologize? I had to do this. It was for her own good, and if I had it my way, I would keep her as far away from me as possible.

But that would hurt her, and that's what I was trying to prevent.

And the worst part was when she spoke. "It's okay," she said, as if she were assuring me. Forgiving me. When I didn't deserve it. Emily turned around so that her back was facing me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to Merlin that she wasn't going to cry.

After all, isn't that what got me into this mess?

* * *

The people who came over the next day wanted the house. I was surprised, honestly; everything may have been clean, but it was bloody small. Muggle logic is irrational, if you ask me.

We discussed it at dinner.

"I think we should sell it to them," Malfoy suggested, picking at his mashed potatoes. "They made a good offer."

"Should we really sell to the first people who offer?" I asked, frowning. "I mean, that's pretty much our asking price. Maybe the house is worth more than we thought."

Emily snorted. "I doubt it. Those people were a little out of it, if you asked me. That's the best offer we're going to get."

I looked to Rose, who didn't say anything. In fact, she was glaring at me.

"What?"

"I need to talk to you," she muttered, standing and yanking me out of my chair. I caught a glimpse of Emily and Malfoy as I left; they were silently communicating their simultaneous confusion.

_Don't get jealous. They're friends. Just friends._

"What is this about?" I asked as Rose led me into my own room. I learned long ago not to argue with a pregnant woman (too many of those in my family), but it was though she was looking for an argument.

Oh, who am I kidding. It's _Rose._

"What is this?" she demanded, pointing at the two beds. I'd pushed them back together for the showing, but once you shifted the blankets a little, there was a clear indent between the two. Rose flipped it off to reveal the severed mattress. "I don't think I bought this bed for you to break."

I held my hands up. "Hey, I did this on purpose. It wasn't a temper thing."

"Good, because if you ever release that temper on Emily, I might have to murder you." The next thing I knew, she was holding me by the ear, practically pulling it out of my head.

"Rose!"

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, wrenching harder.

"Nothing!"

"Why are you doing this to her?" She let go of my ear and held her hand as though she were about to slap me. "Do you enjoy leading her on? Is that it? What the hell is wrong with you?"

I stepped back, actually fearing for my life. "Not the face. Please not the face."

"Albus Severus Potter…"

"Okay, okay." I let my hands hang at my sides. "I'm not leading her on. I swear. That's why I split the bed in the first place."

"Al, what happened?" she asked wearily. "Is it Emily?"

"No."

"Then it's you."

"Yes."

She sighed. "If it's that _stupid_ thing with Holly, then I _swear_–"

"It's not stupid!" I protested indignantly, guilt bubbling in the pit of my stomach. "That was my fault! I can't let that happen again!"

She stood. We'd had this argument too many times to count, and if she thought my mind was going to change now, she was mad. Absolutely insane. "How did this start? Weren't you seducing her in Rome?"

My ears burned red. I could feel it. "Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"I forgot." I dropped my gaze to the floor. "I forgot what I did. Then I found out about David, and what he did to her. And then I was going to – well, break up with her in a sense – but she kissed me. And I forgot again."

"Then?"

"We fell in that fountain," I mumbled. "I hurt her."

To my disbelief, Rose scoffed. "That wasn't _you_, moron. That was the fountain."

"Well, I _could _hurt her, couldn't I?" I shook my head and crossed my arms. "You wouldn't get it, Rose."

She pursed her lips and smacked me on the head, and hard, before storming out and slamming the door. I stared after her. She didn't get it. She'd never get it. She didn't understand that if I kept doing what I was doing, I would hurt Emily _more._

Rose could give me the silent treatment all she wanted. I didn't care in the slightest.

* * *

A few days passed, and Rose still refused to speak to me. Malfoy had accepted the offer, and we were expected to move out of the head by next week. We still hadn't found a place to stay. Emily was still being inexplicably nice to me.

(And when I say "nice", it's not a good way to describe it. A better word would be – as much as it pains me to admit it – _caring._She treated me as if there was some hope left, and honestly, I was still pushing her away, even if I felt like a douchebag.)

Oh, and what was I doing?

I was writing an article on the ministry.

Before this summer, I didn't have any emotional connection to the shit that's going down over there. My writing was objective and entirely detached, but now… my wife is the target of the shit. And yeah, that definitely concerned me.

I scanned my notes. The ministry was controlling _The_ _Daily Prophet_. I hadn't written any articles about the ministry since April. They'd probably been selective with what they assigned me, like always. I was hired based on my merit, but I was given special treatment based on my name. It's why I was allowed to choose my hours and have my own office or have the choice to work from home. I would've complained, but I wanted those things.

I was hired the summer before my sixth year for an internship, and before seventh year, the firm hired me. I worked year-long from school, sometimes getting out of the castle to do research. The editor always assigned me these random articles he thought would be best told from a youth's point of view.

This usually included the ministry. Looking back, I could see how the minister had slowly built up to the Death Eater law that Emily was running from. He'd been slowly passing laws that lead up to it: everyone who was pure blood and related to a pure blood had to submit their names. Death Eaters had to be located (reasons unknown).

The article I was writing was supposed to be detailing the good the recent laws were doing for the Wizarding community. I was supposed to outline the improvements to the security of the country and how the laws ensured that people were safer.

It was completely and totally biased. How was Emily supposed to feel safe when she knew they could take her family to prison at any time they wanted? How was she supposed to relax when they could kill her father at any time? Why was the minister hyping up a fear that only existed in his mind?

It was so wrong. I felt sick as I wrote it.

I finished the article, still feeling disgusted with myself. It was like I was selling out to keep a job, no matter how detached the words sounded on paper. To distract myself, I unrolled a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ that had been sent to me with my assignment.

As strange as it sounds, I rarely read the damn paper. It was widely known to be supported and controlled by the ministry in a biased fashion, no matter who was ruling. There weren't many other magazines besides _Witch Weekly,_ and _The Quibbler _was garbage, save for a few articles; the writers on that magazine preferred to use their imagination.

So did I, but I never wrote things from my imagination for a _newspaper._

But as I read the headline, my stomach plummeted further.

'_HARRY POTTER FIRED AS HEAD OF AUROR DEPARTMENT_'

My body tensed in my chair. Why was he being fired? Wasn't he supposed to be one of the most influential people in the Wizarding World, being the Saviour and all? He was the best auror there. I didn't understand.

And why didn't he tell me?

_Bloody minister,_I seethed, clenching my fists and trying to breathe. What if something bad happened? What if Emily and I needed my dad's help? He couldn't give us that anymore. He'd been fired. He lost his authority - his power.

As if on cue, I felt arms slide around me and reach at my chest.

"You're home," I acknowledged unnecessarily. My voice was hoarse and didn't sound right, as though someone else was speaking.

"What's wrong?" Emily whispered in my ear, sending shivers up my spine. "You're all tense."

I took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to go visit my family tomorrow."

"Really?"

Numbly, I slid the paper a few inches towards her. She leaned forward to read. A bit of her hair brushed against my cheek and nose. It smelled nice.

"He didn't tell me," I said, my throat tight.

She glanced at me, her expression softening. "It says the minister fired him because they got in some sort of argument. You should ask him about it."

"I will."

She smiled sympathetically and leaned back up to kiss the top of my head. "It only happened last night. You don't live with him anymore. He's probably really busy or something."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Whatever, I don't care."

"Al -"

"_What_?" I rounded on her, glaring. "I don't." She looked away, and I instantly regretted lashing out on her.

"If you say so."

"I don't," I said softly.

She ignored me this time - and rightfully so. She lifted herself off me and went to sit in another chair at the dining table. I couldn't smell her anymore. "I checked out an apartment on the way home. The one a few kilometres from here."

I nodded. I told her I was okay with pretty much anything, as long as the place was functional. "And?"

"The carpets smell funny."

"We could get rid of the smell."

"But the room was overall disgusting," she explained with a grimace, "and the building that Rose and Scorpius are in is full."

"Dammit. Where should we check next?"

She bit her lip. She looked worried. "Al, we have until Wednesday to find somewhere to live."

"So?"

"I think we should ask your parents if we can move in. Temporarily," she added hastily at my expression. "Just until we can find a place of our own."

"Why can't we ask your parents?"

She looked away again. "I asked today. Mum said no. There isn't enough room unless you camp out in the basement, and it isn't finished. You'll probably freeze to death down there."

I wasn't listening anymore; there was something in her expression that wasn't quite neutral. "You visited your mum today?"

"Yeah. Asked her to visit Dad with me tomorrow." We'd received an OWL this morning from the ministry that Emily was scheduled to visit Saturday afternoon.

"Do you want me to come with you?" She shook her head, and I sighed in relief. Azkaban is a scary place. I wouldn't ever step foot in there voluntarily. "So how's your mum? She doing all right?"

"Fine," she said shortly, pushing her chair back noisily. I stared at her retreating back as she headed up the stairs. Moments later, I heard our door slam close. Obviously, something had happened, and she wasn't going to tell me.

Shit.

Did Emily not trust me anymore?

* * *

Emily was more upset than I thought she was. She helped Rose cook dinner, and though I _knew_ they were talking about something important, I couldn't hear a damn word. I think they cast _Muffliato _on me.

So unfair. I AM NOT THE ENEMY.

She avoided my gaze at dinner and went to bed early. It was driving me crazy. What did I do? I mean, yes, I split our bed in two. I might've pushed her away when she was being affectionate. I might've told her to get over me.

Bloody hell, never mind. She had every right to be angry at me.

Maybe I'd been going at this all wrong. She needed to get over me - that wasn't up for discussion - but maybe I shouldn't have been pushing her away to get her to do it. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before, when we didn't have feelings for each other and screwing everything up. When we could just tell each other everything.

But I have to admit, that's kind of stupid - to expect her to trust me while I'm treating her like shit.

I'm really smart.

BUT THEN HOW DO I DO IT?

I decided to give it a try. Just wing it, just to see what happened. It was around ten in the morning when Emily came in from her run. I looked up from tying my shoelaces; she'd disappeared in the closet.

"Hey, Emily?"

"Yeah?"

I swallowed my pride. "I'm sorry for yesterday, when - I guess I yelled at you. I didn't mean to." I knotted the shoelace before continuing. "And I think I was wrong with the way I went about things."

"What things?" she asked. She sounded bewildered, but that might've been because she was still in the closet, looking for something. I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. Considering my options.

_I mean, it's only fair. I should tell her._

"I think... maybe I should've explained everything." The ceiling was unresponsive, yes, but somehow encouraging. I stood up slowly and walked towards the walk-in-closet, leaning on the door frame. "You know, why I wanted you to get over - what the hell is that?"

Emily gave me a funny look as she walked out of the closet. "What?"

"On - on your chest!" I spluttered. It was even clearer when she was out of the closet and into the light of the room. Emily glanced down and found what I was referring to: a dark bruise in the middle of her cleavage.

She blushed. "Why are you looking down my shirt?"

My face heated as well. "You call that a shirt?" It was some sort of tank top for exercising. It was stretchy and stuck to her body. I shook my head and tried to force my eyes back to her face. "What is it?"

"I'm sure you know what breasts are, Al."

"How'd you get a bruise there?" I asked shakily, my eyes unwillingly drawn to it. How did I never notice that before? "I don't think you didn't run into a pole or something, because then your face wouldn't be so pretty."

Emily flushed a deeper red. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Not the point," I dismissed. I felt like a pervert, staring, but I was honestly staring at the bruise. It was purple and green and blue and all sorts of gross colours. It looked really bad, and I wasn't even looking at the whole thing; it extended downwards. "What is it?"

"It's a bruise," she said hesitantly, walking over to her dresser and fishing out one of the t-shirts she wore to bed. After she pulled in on, she gave me look, saying, "There. Better now?"

"No..." I tried to breathe. I'd been finding that difficult lately. "Emily, who did it?"

"Al."

"Was it someone at work? Did someone corner you or something?"

"Al," she started again in a reasoning tone, but I shook with impatience.

"Tell me." I crossed my arms. "Please. I'll help. I'll -"

"Stop it." Something in her voice made me stop; it was sharp and forced. Her eyes were blazing and angry. I stepped back.

I held my arms tight against my chest, defiant. "What?"

The the strangest thing happened: she peered at me curiously. As if she were checking something to reassure herself. Then, just when I thought she was about to open her mouth to yell at me, she stepped backwards.

What was happening?

When she spoke, her voice broke. Shit. When did I hurt her?

"You're not lying."

"What?"

"You really don't remember."

"Remember what?" I asked. I racked my brain fiercely. Did Emily tell me about any bruises?

She stepped back again, as though she were mildly stunned. Why? What happened? Was it because I didn't remember something? "Al..."

"I don't remember you telling me anything about bruises..."

Her back hit the door of the bedroom. She looked as though she were about to cry. I didn't understand why she was feeling or acting this way. "Al, you _did_have feelings for me, right?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "I don't know what this has to do with -"

"Right?" she asked again, almost desperately. Wait, definitely desperately. What the hell. What was she thinking? Why was she desperate? Why was she crying? Why was she backing away from me? How did my fancying her have _anything _to do with this?

I couldn't even answer, I was so confused. My head was spinning. "Emily, I -"

"Damn it," she whispered under her breath. She wasn't looking at me anymore, but the floor. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."

"_Emily -_"

"It's okay," she cut in, her voice loud but wobbly. She still wasn't - _wouldn't_- look at me. "I get it. I understand what's going on."

"Em, I -"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped suddenly, her watery eyes finding mine. A tear slipped out. She wiped it away immediately. "You don't - you don't have the right to."

I didn't even know what to say anymore.

Suddenly, she squared her shoulders and strode over to me. My only reflex was to step backwards. I was defenceless, as though I was transparent in front of this girl - and that was my own fault. I was the one who left myself get this way: without anything to defend me from getting hurt. I let my guard down.

She didn't stop until my back was against the wall, her brown eyes brimming with tears but refusing to overflow. I, on the other hand, couldn't think anymore; she was much too close and smelled too good. All I knew is that she was inches away and her arms were around my neck and she looked hurt. And I didn't know why.

Emily was reaching on her toes, leaning even closer to me. I could hear her breathing intermingling with mine, or maybe I felt it, because my heart was much, _much_ louder than that. It was thudding with every second and I was afraid she'd be able to hear it, and perhaps even feel it, because her chest was pressing against mine, her chest with a bruise that I didn't know where it had come from, everything was in slow motion even though it couldn't have been that long, really, but she smelled so good, something like citrus, and the past few nights of not inhaling that was catching up to me in my senses, so even if I wanted to push her away, I _couldn't _push her away, even if I still didn't know what was going on and where her bruise had come from and why she was crying -

And then her lips were on mine.

I didn't expect this. Anything but this. I was shocked, frozen against the bedroom wall. For two weeks I'd promised myself I would never do that again, and there I was, relishing how soft her lips were and how amazing she tasted and how it felt too good to be real. Something inside was nagging me to push her away, that I'd promised, _sworn _to myself I wouldn't do this, but I couldn't move. I didn't even react. I only closed my eyes. Stood motionlessly. In the moment.

And then it was over. It hadn't even lasted more a few seconds. Her arms slid so that her fingers were gripping the back of my neck, toying with the hairs there. It felt good. Everything about her was bloody addicting. I opened my eyes, something curling in the pit of my stomach as I found more tears sliding down her face and I _still didn't know why._

When she spoke, I could barely hear it, even if I was inches away. It was softer than a whisper. It was like mist, brushing over my senses like cooling waves. "It doesn't bother me," she said, "that this didn't make you feel anything." She let her hands slid off me, and I immediately yearned for her touch. "I don't care, either."

The next thing I knew, she'd run out the door.

And I was fuming.

Not feel anything? Was she mad? She made me feel as though I would explode. She caused things in me that I was a hundred percent sure was unnatural. How could she say I didn't feel anything?

And why didn't it bother her? Why didn't she care?

My head was spinning so much now that my vision had begun to blur. My head was heavy. Everything was too warm and the room was dark and suffocating. I had to get out.

I grabbed my wand and apparated. I landed in a bed, but before I could discern where, sleep had found me and decided to take advantage of my symptoms.

Or, more likely, I fainted.

This is why you don't go around unarmed. Protect your heart, people.

* * *

I woke up to an ugly face.

"You're not Emily," I groaned, twisting to my side and groped the right side of the bed for her. Nothing. "Where is she?"

"You really are delirious, little bro," muttered the ugly face. Someone had removed my glasses. I squinted. It was James.

"What are you doing in my house?" I asked, trying to sit up. James immediately pushed me back down and stood up straight, snickering to someone else in the room.

"You're home," said someone who sounded a lot like my sister. I squinted some more.

"Lily, is that you? I can't see you behind this big butt of a brother."

"I liked you better when you weren't talking," James mumbled, reaching to the bedside table for a bottle. I noticed my shirt was off and there was some sort of wound on the left side on my abdomen.

I reached for my glasses on the bedside table. Relief went through me as everything came into focus; I was in my bed, in my childhood room. I must've somehow apparated there. And...

"Splinched," James said, unimpressed as he shook the dittany in my face. "Lily and I heard you apparate in. You were saying all sorts of things in your sleep. We figured you'd fainted from the pain and blood loss."

I frowned. "Funny. All I remember is feeling dizzy."

"It was probably exhaustion."

I closed my eyes in defeat. "I guess it's because I didn't sleep last night."

"Atta boy. That's the first step. Admitting you have a problem isn't as bad as you think it is!" I grinned at the sound of my sister's voice, and this time when I sat up, James didn't stop me. Lily bounced across and room to hug me. "I missed you, Al."

"Hey, Lils." I felt the pain this time; my left side was burning. I ignored it. I turned to my brother. "What, no hug?"

He cracked a smile for the first time and ruffled my hair. "Hey, little bro."

"Hey, James." I reached under my glasses and rubbed my eyes. "Can't believe I apparated here. I didn't even know where I was going."

"You must've been thinking about it subconsciously," he said, pushing me over so he could sit on the bed. "Probably why you splinched yourself. Why didn't you sleep last night, huh?" I looked up; he was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I sighed. "It wasn't like that." I let my hand graze my side and winced; I really didn't want to see what was there. "We had a fight just now."

"Really?"

"We've been fighting for the past few weeks."

"Why?" Lily asked curiously. "You didn't seem like you were fighting at Dad's party."

I snorted. "We fought during the party."

"But why?"

"I dunno..." I answered, trailing off in thought. That day's fight was still unclear to me. She had bruises. And she told me about them before. And then she was demanding if I fancied her, and... I never answered. Then she kissed me, and told me she didn't care.

_Fuck._

Her bruises were from David.

It was as if bricks had been dropped on my head. Or boulders. Yeah, that sounded a bit more accurate for my realization. My head was suddenly throbbing, and I dropped my face in my hands. I'd forgotten that she messed up a spell and her bruises were still there, as if she'd just gotten them. I'd completely and utterly forgotten.

Bloody hell, and I was going to explain why I wanted her to get over me. Of all the insensitive things I could've done, I demanded who'd done it to her and asked if I could help. As if I could do anything about a memory she was trying to overcome. Instead of making her understand the real reason, she'd understood something else.

That I never had feelings for her. That I never felt anything when she kissed me. That I'd used her like she was using me. That everything was a lie.

Emily told me she didn't care. Because that's what she did when she was trying not to.

Shit.

She was finally trying to get over me - but for the wrong reasons.

I was vaguely aware that Lily was hugging me, muttering that it'd be okay. My little sister was scared for me. I wrapped my arms around her and stroked her hair, not telling her I was okay because that would be lying. I wasn't okay. I was dizzy and my head was pounding and my side felt like it was going to split in two. That wasn't okay, was it?

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that James was watching me. I raised an eyebrow at him as Lily let go of me.

"You're not going to cry, are you?" he responded heavily.

I shrugged. "I haven't cried in years."

"Yeah, not since..." He struggled for words.

"You've changed," Lily supplied suddenly. She and James were staring at me, scrutinizing me - trying to figure me out. She even moved her red hair out of her face to look at me better.

"She's right..." He reached over and flicked my forehead with his fingers. I grimaced. He sat back with astonishment. "See? You never used to react to that. You had the whole sarcasm-emotionless thing down. You laughed off everything. It's like you didn't have a heart."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Aw, does Al actually _care _about something, now?" Lily teased, ruffling my hair. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Of course I cared," I said quietly.

"Yeah, but you didn't _show _it." James shrugged after a moment, leaning back on his hands and smirking at me. "I guess that's what happens. You change when you fall in love."

My head snapped in his direction. What I really wanted to say was that it's _not _love. It can't be. If it was love, it wouldn't be so screwed up. But as it was, he didn't know it was a fake relationship, and I was going to keep it that way.

"What do _you _know about love?" I demanded, my voice getting caught in between. "You've never been able to hold onto a girl for more than two weeks."

He shrugged again. "Didn't find the right person."

My chest lurched wildly again. Emily was not the _right_ _person._I just fancied her. A lot.

I sought to change the subject. "What time is it?"

"About five o'clock," Lily told me after glancing at my clock on the wall. "You've been out for a while. Mum's been worried sick."

"Mum's home?"

"She just got home at four."

"Where is she?"

"Talking to Dad," said James. "He's been in and out for two months, now. Trying to figure everything out at the ministry."

Lily hesitated. "Don't tell them this, but we think Dad's lost any influence over the ministry. Have you read _The Daily Prophet _lately?"

"No. Except for the headline yesterday."

"They've made him a joke," James explained solemnly. "It's like he has to defeat another evil Dark Wizard for anyone to respect him again. No one remembers what he did except for our family and friends. But that's not enough."

"People are blaming him for the minister's doing," Lily added. "It's not fair. He's trying to fix everything and get people out of jail and defend people's executions, but none of that matters. They think Dad's on Mr. Birch's side."

I exhaled loudly. "And of course, Dad won't tell us any of this to protect us and all?" They laughed, and I hung my heavy head, smiling for the first time that day. "Of course not. Same old Dad."

I felt a deep sense of longing. I'd missed my siblings more than I thought; even at Hogwarts, James, Lily and I were really close. I think it started when our parents had started leaving us home alone when their jobs clashed. Don't get me wrong: they were amazing parents and were around a lot. But those times made a huge impact, and I couldn't even think of my childhood without remembering my adventures with James and Lily.

I gingerly stood from the bed and made my way to my closet to slip on a shirt. My side burned painfully, and I groaned from the pain.

"You okay?" James called.

"Fine," I said, gritting my teeth and trying to breathe. "So Dad's lost his job. But he's still trying to fix things at the ministry, right?"

"Of course."

I shook my head as James and Lily got up. We headed downstairs; I could smell dinner cooking, which was good. I was kind of hungry. We'd reached the landing and wandered over to the kitchen, where I was expecting to find food... but instead found Emily. Just casually sitting at the breakfast bar, chatting with my mum and dad.

I stopped dead in my tracks. "What are you doing here?"

She was biting her lip and twisting her hair. Shit. Her eyes were red and there was something in her expression that made me think she was guilty. Very guilty. But she had nothing to be guilty about.

Right?

"Al." Her voice was quiet and trembling. She made her way to me and pushed lightly at my chest so we were back in the hall. She was shaking madly from nerves, and couldn't stop biting her lip.

"What's going on?" I asked. I couldn't help but think of the last time I'd seen her, which was this morning. When she was crying and upset and assuming things. I had to fix that, somehow, but right then, there was something else going on. Something else had happened. "Emily?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, eyelashes fluttering. "I told them."

"What?"

"_Al._" She opened her eyes and looked in mine determinedly. "I told them everything."


	26. Emily: The Wounded

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Emily: The Wounded**

I couldn't breathe.

I could barely see where I was going. I had slammed the bedroom shut and made it three steps down the hallway before I stopped suddenly, the room spinning before me, my heart pounding my ears and my chest tight and my lips tingling from when they had touched Al's lips –

_What did I just do_?

Then I heard a _crack _from inside the room. I instantly froze; shit, did Al fall or break something or… what? Ignoring my aching head, I rushed back in, not caring what I'd just done, but Al needed to be okay, he had to be –

But he wasn't even there. I realized the _crack _meant he'd apparated out. The room was just as we'd left it: the beds were unmade and Al's socks were on the floor. Light streamed through the windows.

I shakily made my way into the shower, keeping my clothes on as water poured over me. My tears intermingled with the water and I still couldn't breathe, but I didn't care; I stripped off my sopping t-shirt and tank top and stared through blurry eyes at my torso.

It never changed. They weren't going to: they were _scars_. I had to remember that.

Usually I managed to cover it with a spell, but the spell damage I'd done was permanent. Two years and the scars were still there as though David had given to me yesterday, but they hadn't. They didn't hurt anymore. They were just a living reminder of what I'd gone through and what had happened when I tried to cover it up. When I tried to run from it.

They were ugly and purple and blue and black and I wanted them _gone._Every day I had to look at them, and for a while I thought I'd finally gotten over it. I thought that I could look at them without feeling like David still owned me. That I was my own person. That someone else cared for me enough to protect me from someone like him, and that I deserved it, for once. That I wouldn't look at myself and feel so bad.

And he didn't even remember, even when evidence was staring at him in the face.

I slid down the tiled wall and curled into myself, beginning to sob underneath the hot water of the shower. Al lied to me. If he really cared for me, he would've remembered. If he'd felt anything, he would've kissed me back.

_He forgot, you idiot, he forgot and he _used_ you, _I told myself._ He doesn't care, and you shouldn't, either. He told you to get over him because he felt guilty for leading you on. Stop crying and accept that._

But I couldn't. I _knew _Al. And maybe I didn't, because he'd played me like a fool and I fell for every bloody thing he did. I was such an idiot for believing him. I was a shit Slytherin, and even worse, I hadn't learned from the first time I'd gone through this.

I ran my fingers over the biggest bruise – the one Al had seen. The one that extended from my cleavage down to my belly button. The one which started as a bruise, when David had punched me and scratched his nails down the middle of my torso. The scratches still looked as though they were open and bloody. Like they would never heal.

I still couldn't breathe.

_I can't believe he didn't remember._

* * *

I didn't know what to expect of Azkaban. All I knew was that it was on an island, and the Dementors were only there because there was literally no way to destroy one and there was no other place to put them. They were still trying to work that out, I suppose.

My mother and I had arrived at the ministry to take a portkey there with an official-looking wizard with a comb-over and black robes. My eyes were still red. So were my mother's; they were red when I had come over the previous day.

I think she was depressed. I didn't even think how my father's imprisonment had affected her, and looking back, we may have been able to help each other. Even if we were just eating ice cream on the couch while sitting and talking and rubbing each other's feet (mother-daughter nights over the years), it would've been better than being alone.

But we weren't alone this time. I clasped my mother's hand like when I was little and held the portkey, which was an old, battered hairbrush. Her hand was warm and comforting as we spun through the stratosphere, into nothing - into the decay that was Azkaban.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was the sea, combined with something I didn't recognize. I wrinkled my nose and straightened up, unwilling to let go of my mother's hand as I observed our surroundings.

It was dark. We could hear the sea, but couldn't see it; the island seemed to be entirely surrounded by the prison, and we'd landed in the courtyard. Surrounding us were endlessly tall walls of building, shaped in a triangle. Prison cells were surrounding us, just bars.

Then I started to hear the moaning and screaming.

From the _prisoners_.

"Come on," the official bit out impatiently, and my mum pulled me to follow him. He led us through an entrance and up stairs. Many stairs. And it was dark. As we climbed, I could hear the moaning and screaming get louder and louder and louder. I brought up one hand to shut my ears.

Finally, we stopped at the fifth landing.

"Gregory Goyle," the official grunted, unlocking the door with his wand. "Served three weeks. Top security. Cause: Death Eater." I wondered why he would be telling us this – we obviously knew – but it was evident when he'd opened the door. We entered the room, and single cells switched back and forth in quick speeds.

_So the visitors don't see the Dementors, _I realized.

"Dad!" I cried when his cell came into view, stopping and slamming in place. The official unlocked his cell with a wave of his wand and left, shutting the door. Without thinking, I leapt forward and jumped in my dad's arms.

"Emily," he said weakly. That's when I stepped away and got a good look at him; he'd lost a lot of weight. He was pale and shaking, even after being away from the Dementors. Despite that, he seemed intact. Not insane. I threw my arms around him again, warming him, smelling in that good old Dad scent and trying not to cry again. My mother wrapped her arms and both of us from behind me, and I relaxed.

He was okay.

Shocked. Terrified. But okay.

"You shouldn't have come here," he whispered, tears leaking out of his eyes. I shook my head and held tighter. "It's not – it's not safe."

"Dad, I missed you," I gasped, beginning to cry yet again. My mum as already crying, and her tears were soaking the back of my shirt. I pulled away and let mother and father embrace.

I wiped my eyes as they kissed and held each other, whispering incoherent thoughts. I kept hearing, "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay…"

It really was hardest for my mum. I found myself imagining myself in her place, if Al was the one trapped behind bars with Dementors, forcing him to imagine his darkest memories, as though he were trapped in them, as though he would never feel happy again –

Except we could never compare to the love between my parents. That was real. And no matter how much I wanted it otherwise, Al didn't feel anything for me.

But I still had my parents.

I went back to wiggle in between them again, feeling as though I hadn't been truly at home for months. I loved my dad. I loved my mum. I loved them so much for raising me and teaching me how to walk and use the toilet and kissing my cuts and for their singing in the morning. I loved them so much.

And just like my bruises, I wanted my father gone from his place.

I still couldn't breathe.

* * *

We only got a bit of time before the guard, who had been waiting outside the door, came back and told us to leave. Barely any time to talk to my father. He just kept telling us to be strong – as if he didn't need the advice himself – and bid us goodbye. I never had the chance to say goodbye before. It was harder than I thought it would be.

When I got back to the ministry and hugged my mother goodbye, I came home with a resolve to be better at keeping in touch with her. I wasn't sure how to keep in touch with my dad, because visiting was a scarring experience in itself, but I would do it. I wanted to.

I found Rose and Scorpius in the kitchen, packing utensils into a box. I sniffed loudly, and they looked up.

"Emily, you're home – are you okay?"

I nodded, but Rose leapt a few steps and tackled me anyway. I wrapped my arms around her; she was getting bigger now, with a tiny bump on her stomach. I looked over her shoulder at Scorpius, trying not to burst into tears again.

He mouthed it. '_Well, are you okay?_' I locked eyes with him and shook my head. The next thing I knew, Rose had let go and Scorpius was gripping me tightly, lifting me slightly off my feet.

"I'm so sorry," he told me desperately, swaying me back and forth. "I wanted to tell you – we felt so bad for kicking you guys out that we wanted to make sure you and Potter had somewhere to stay, but he found out first and got hot-headed and –"

"You're more alike than you think," I whispered in his ear, relaxing. "It's okay, Scorp. Siblings fight all the time. We all make mistakes. I still love you."

"You're so sappy."

"Says the one squeezing me to death." Almost squeezing out my tears. I buried my nose in his shoulder. "I never want to go back to Azkaban again." He only awkwardly patted my back. Same old Scorp.

"AWWWW!"

I laughed and turned to Rose. "Couldn't hold it in anymore?" I teased, my voice cracking as it came out.

She dabbed at her eyes and launched her arms and around Scorpius' neck, bringing their lips together. "Nope," she mumbled. I rolled my eyes and grinned, almost feeling better.

Until I was painfully reminded that they too had what I didn't have. I watched them as they smiled at each other, eyes sparkling and pretty much forgetting I was in the room. Like they were the only ones in the world.

I cleared my throat. "Where's Al?"

* * *

"Emily, what a surprise!"

I was sure James was being slightly sarcastic when he answered the door, so I didn't answer. He let me in, awkwardly watching me take off my shoes. "Al's kind of… unavailable right now."

"What do you mean?"

"He's unconscious," he stated matter-of-factly, sounding unconcerned. My mouth fell open.

"Why?"

"He splinched himself getting here, the prat." James rolled his eyes at my worry. "Don't worry, he's fine. He's been out for hours, though. Did he sleep last night?"

"Not really." I placed my shoes neatly in the corner and followed him into the house. "Al found the Daily Prophet article yesterday, so I think he was a little occupied with that."

James snorted. "He's been mumbling about you in his sleep for the past four hours."

_So he feels guilty,_I thought, but my face burned anyway. Just as we entered the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Potter fell silent and glanced to us from the stove. Their eyes widened in surprise.

"Hello," I greeted shyly, and James shoved me into a chair at the breakfast bar. He sauntered away. "Wait, where are you going?" I called.

"Checking on Al. Don't come," he added.

I wasn't going to go. Pfft.

PFFT.

_It's not like he'd want me to come, anyway, _I remembered, my face falling. I quickly pulled it back into a weak smile at Al's parents. I still found it strange to see them in muggle clothing; I'd seen them in dress robes for the past seventeen years of my life whenever they were in public. They were famous. It was strange to think they had normal lives.

"Hello, Emily," Al's mother greeted, breaking the awkward silence. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"I – if you'll have me." I fidgeted with the ends of my shirt as they assured me that they'd love to have me over. I wondered if there would ever be a point that I wouldn't feel awkward and intruding around the Potters. I loved Al, but his family took some adjusting to.

Wait a minute.

Bloody hell.

I loved Al.

"Emily?" Mr. Potter waved a hand in front of me, and I started again stunned. _I'm in love with Al._ "Emily, are you okay?" _No, I'm in love. I'minloveI'minloveI'minlove. _I nodded anyway. I felt numb.

_I'm in love with Al._

_And he doesn't love me back._

I couldn't breathe anymore.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter looked at a loss for what to say, so they simply went back to making dinner, respectfully giving me space. As I regained the awareness of my senses, I watched them cook dinner – a casserole of some sort. They worked together, handed things to each other from the fridge and pantry and cupboards. Mrs. Potter would smack her husband lightly on the hand every time he reached in pan to taste something. Their laughter blended together.

They were probably amazing parents, like mine. They probably knew everything about their children's lives and helped them whenever they were struggling with something. They probably had years of memories stored away; everyone knew that they'd gotten together in their sixth year of Hogwarts. The rumour was practically a legend, and sitting there watching them, I could see how people believed it. It was true.

First it was my parents, then Rose and Scorpius, and now Al's parents. It was always there, but it was as though it had caught my attention and flaunting it in my face like some sort of banner: _We have what you don't. And probably will never have. You fall in unrequited love. _And like the selfish person I was, I felt something break. I just couldn't keep it inside any longer.

"I'm in love with your son."

They stopped bustling around at my outburst. They exchanged glances uneasily.

"We know that, Emily…" Mrs. Potter answered, unsure. I shook my head.

"That's not it."

"You're not in love with James, are you?"

"What – of course not," I said, momentarily distracted.

"Then what is it?"

I took a deep breath. I couldn't even believe I was doing this. "I'm in love with Al… but he doesn't love me back." They stared blankly at me. Disbelieving. I closed my eyes, unwilling to see their disappointment. "We didn't know each other when we got married. We did it save my family."

They didn't say anything. I kept going.

"It was fine, at first. We became friends. We went to the ministry. They almost believed us. Then Al's ex-girlfriend told the minister that we weren't in love, and since we didn't take Veritaserum, they took my father to jail." I buried my face in my hands, still refusing to look at them. "Then Al told me he fancied me, but he lied, and I don't know why, but now I'm in love with him and it's still a lie to him."

My voice broke. "All of it was a lie."

The sauce or whatever was in the pot began bubbling noisily; they gratefully took the distraction, but instead of simply turning off the stove, they both lunged for it, muttering under their breaths to each other.

"Let me do it."

"No, let me do it."

"Just – let _go, _Ginny –"

As they struggled over the pot, determinedly not looking at me, I heard thumping coming from the stairs. Moments later, James and Lily and the boy I was in love with (maybe if I repeated it to myself, it wouldn't sound so scary) appeared in the doorway. We locked gazes and froze. Simultaneously.

Shit.

I didn't even ask him if he was ready to tell his parents.

"What are you doing here?" he managed to croak.

My heart was racing. "Al."

As I slid off the chair and walked towards him, he looked as though he was fighting the urge to run away. He looked nervous and shocked and scared, and I didn't know why. He winced when I pushed him out of the kitchen.

"What's going on?" he asked, peering closely at me. "What's wrong?"

I closed my eyes under his gaze. "I told them."

"What?"

"_Al_," I said impatiently, my eyes snapping open. Guilt was settling in my stomach, making it clench and squirm. "I told them everything."

He was pale before, but after I'd confessed what I'd done, the colour had completely drained from Al's face. I felt guilty, yeah. But I needed to do it. It was the right thing to do.

"You told our parents," he whispered. "You told them we…"

"Everything." I shifted my weight from one side to the other. "Why we did it. The real reason."

He swallowed. "You did this without telling me."

"Yeah."

"_Why_?"

I hung my head. I spotted butterflies on my socks. Did I really do it because I was in love with Al, and he lied to me? Did I really snap because everyone else's love life was perfect, but mine wasn't even close? I felt my cheeks burn from shame.

"Because you don't care," I whispered.

"_What?_"

"Well, you don't, do you?" My head snapped up to meet his bewildered expression. "How could you forget? Why didn't you kiss me back?"

"So was this some way of _tattling _on me?" he demanded.

My face grew hotter. "No."

"Bloody sodding hell, _what did you just do?"_

"I told them the truth!" I shouted back, throwing my arms in the air. "I told them what we should've told them two months ago! Why did we hide this from them? Why did we tell Rose and Scorpius that I'm pregnant? So you could use me?"

"I never _fucking_–"

"That's enough," came a voice from inside the kitchen. Mrs. Potter stepped out in the hallway, hands on her hips and looking extremely menacing. I guess Mr. Potter won the battle over the pot. "Watch your language, Albus."

"Sorry," he muttered, shoving his hands in his shorts pockets.

Wow. He listened to his mother.

"What's going on?" she asked, turning to me. Al was glaring at me, and it was very distracting. "Dinner's ready, and you two are making a racket out here –"

"She started it!"

"_I _started this?"

"Yes, you did!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

I was about to answer when James and Lily burst into laughter; evidently, they had been peeking into the hallway. Mr. Potter was sitting at the table, smiling to himself. Even Mrs. Potter was trying not to laugh.

"Do you two need a time out?" she asked, running a hand through her hair.

"No," we both replied indignantly. We glared at each other, crossing our arms.

The next thing I knew, we were seated beside each other at the Potter's dinner table across from Mr. and Mrs. Potter. James and Lily were sitting at the sides, giggling away and glancing at the casserole in the middle of the table. They were probably hungry. Oops.

"So," Mr. Potter said as silence fell over the room, "why are you two fighting?"

"What _aren't _we fighting about?" Al muttered, arms still crossed tightly around him. "I don't even bloody know what's going on anymore."

"That's what you call lack of communication."

"Shut up Lily," Al shot, scowling.

"You know exactly why we're fighting," I mumbled, still unrelenting. If he was going to be stubborn about it, than so was I. "But I shouldn't have told. Should've talked to you about it, first."

"You don't say."

"Stop being rude, Albus," Mrs. Potter scolded before turning to me. I instantly trembled under her gaze. "I… we don't _approve, _but Emily, you have to be considerate of your husband."

I blinked. "Yeah… but… it's fake, isn't it?"

Mr. and Mrs. Potter exchanged glances, looking back at us wearily. Al uncrossed his arms, sensing a change. Shit. What's going on? "Well… Emily… we might have known all along," she admitted. Our jaws dropped.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

"You… you _what_?" Al choked, eyes widening. His hand reached under the table and brushed my thigh. I tensed before taking it. It was warm and sweaty, and I squeezed it and closed my eyes. It couldn't be true. They couldn't have known all along.

"Remember when we had dinner at the Goyle's house?" Mrs. Potter said carefully, as though she was afraid we would explode. "You two had gone up to Emily's room – I think she was unpacking or something?" she asked, and I nodded in confirmation.

I remembered. I also remembered Al saying, _"You should care. It's good for you."_

And look where that had gotten me.

She sighed. "Well, that's when we agreed we would let you two do this."

"But everyone figured it out after your lame story," Lily interjected, rolling her eyes. "I don't even know how Rose and Scorpius believed you. I think most of us know by now."

What the bloody hell.

Did we suck at lying that much?

"What were you planning on doing?" Mr. Potter asked, raising an eyebrow. "Divorcing after this was over? It was clear that you barely knew each other two months ago."

I squeezed Al's hand this time.

"You can't just _divorce,_" he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's complicated, costs money, and honestly? It's not the right thing to do."

Mrs. Potter sighed in agreement. "Divorce rates may be high because people realize they're not in love anymore, but that doesn't always justify it. People forget that they have to work for their relationship. You can't go into a marriage knowing you're going to divorce."

"But…" I struggled for words, not quite understanding their point. "We did it to save my family. It wasn't real. Why does it matter?"

"Because we don't want you to think it's okay to divorce when you're actually in love!" she emphasized, slamming a hand down on the table and looking pointedly at me. My eyes widened in fear.

_Don't tell him I'm in love with him, please don't tell him,_ _Merlin, please no._

To my surprise, she only said, "Divorce isn't as big of a joke as people sometimes make it out to be."

_Oh._

I hung my head again. Al's hand was slipping in mine, but he held on tight.

_Why am I holding his hand?_

"We didn't think it was a joke," Al muttered guiltily. "We just did what we had to do."

"I think what Mum and Dad are trying to say is that people give up too easily," James contemplated, studying his hands as he spoke. "They don't realize that they have to share everything which each other. I think…" He ducked his head in embarrassment. "I think that's what it means. Not seeing flaws as necessarily a bad thing, and working on them if they need to."

Al raised an eyebrow at his brother, but Mr. Potter just went on, completely unconcerned about the fact that James had done something very out-of-character.

"Exactly. And another thing." He pushed his glasses up. "We know about selling the house."

"Did everyone know before us?" Al grumbled. I snorted.

"Rose and Scorpius told us that they were trying to find a place for you guys, but they wanted a backup, just in case," he told us, standing and reaching to the basket on the counter. He tossed us two shiny, silver spare keys. "Welcome to your new home."

"I thought we were going to find an apartment," I said numbly, watching the key clatter onto the table in front of us.

"I don't think you're ready for that yet."

"Yeah, did you see yourselves?" Lily piped up, smirking as she flipped her hair. I blushed at the memory. "Acting like little children. What are you, five?"

Al tried to sound tough, but it just came out indignant again. "No."

Mrs. Potter was looking at us thoughtfully. "You know, I think Lily might be onto something."

"That we're five years old?"

"No…" Her eyes lit mischievously and glanced to her husband. It was as though they were communicating silently, because a few seconds later, he grinned widely.

"You know, I think that might just work," he said.

Al's spine tensed with nerves. I still didn't know why I was holding his hand.

"You two," said his mother, pointing at us with two fingers. "Grab your keys and dinner and go to your rooms."

"_What?_"

"I don't have a room here –"

"Wait a second," Al interrupted, staring at his parents in disbelief. "You're giving us a time out. You're actually doing it."

"If you're going to act like five year olds, then we might as well give you appropriate punishments." I could tell that Al was speechless; he open and closed his mouth as though there were many things he'd just _love_ to say, but couldn't since, you know… they were his _parents._

But finally, he said something.

"What the _fuck_."

… it was probably the wrong thing to say.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Mrs. Potter thundered. I just about peed my pants. James and Lily burst into silent peals of laughter as their mother stood, eyes ablaze, a shaking finger pointed to the direction of Al's room. He tightened his grip on my hand and set off, but not before he grabbed the entire casserole dish with his other hand.

"Come on, Emily!" he shouted, mirth twinkling in his eyes as we ran up the stairs and into his room. I couldn't help but laugh at his idiocy. "We're home free!"

Well, not exactly. Since his mother stormed in a minute later, grabbed the dish and stomped back downstairs… but not before Al put some in the lid of the casserole in and hid it in his bookshelf first.

I really loved this kid.

* * *

As soon as his mother slammed the door shut, Al's hand slid out of mine and he collapsed on his bed. I wouldn't have been concerned, but as soon as he landed, he let out a loud groan and clutched at his side.

"Al?" I asked, hurrying onto the bed beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he grunted. He made an attempt to sit up, but I pushed on his shoulder to keep him down. "Kind of a stupid move, running. Splinched myself getting here."

"How?"

"I dunno, I apparated and fainted." Without thinking, I moved my hand up his shoulder to his forehead and brushed hair away from his forehead. It was almost natural the way he closed his eyes.

"Let me see," I said quietly. Wincing, he turned over and lifted his shirt. Someone had evidently treated it with dittany and a few healing spells, leaving a long, thin scar where the wound had healed. "You've got a scar."

"Brilliant," he groaned, wincing again for some reason. I pulled his shirt back down and he turned over. "Mind getting the food? I'm starving."

We ate in silence. I was determined to avoid his eyes; instead, I focused on his room. It was still the same: ugly posters plastered everywhere, bookshelves filled with books and papers, a couch against one wall, a desk against the other. After we finished eating, I put the lid on his desk.

"Emily?" he called softly. "Why aren't you mad?"

_Right, I'm supposed to be angry him, _I thought, but I couldn't find it in myself anymore. It had been a long day of fighting and tears and I was tired of it all. I just wanted to crawl in his arms and sleep. I felt like crying again.

I only shrugged in response, plopping down on his couch and curling into it. I heard him limp over and sit beside me, placing a hand on my back. I wiggled it off. He retracted his hand as though it had burned.

"Sorry," he mumbled, leaning back and closing his eyes. He took a deep breath. "Why do you think my parents gave us a time out?"

"We were being immature. I guess they just wanted us to talk it out like mature adults."

"We've always done that, though," he pointed out. I couldn't help but smile. We were so honest with each other that it was unnatural. "We tell each other everything. I mean," he added guiltily, "except for that thing…"

"That thing," I echoed, my voice hollow and emotionless as I sat up, keeping my legs curled underneath me. He almost told me. He was so close to telling me everything so things could make _sense _again, but then he… forgot. I might've overreacted, and kissed him… but he still hadn't kissed me back.

And you know what? We were both being stupid.

"I'm sorry," we blurted out together.

"I remembered," Al said quickly, turning and grasping my hand. His eyes were desperate and guilty – as I expected mine were. "I remembered where your bruises were from and I'm so sorry that I forgot. I could make excuses and shit but I really just wasn't thinking straight, and I'm sorry."

I breathed again. "I'm so sorry I overreacted. I knew you hadn't really slept well last night."

"It's okay."

Tears threatened to spill over. "Did you really use me?"

"No, of course not," he whispered firmly. "Bloody hell, I didn't kiss you back because I was shocked. Didn't have a clue what was going on."

"I thought you didn't care to remember."

His back stiffened. "Do I really act like I don't care?"

"Not usually!" I assured him quickly. He only looked more frustrated with himself. I shuffled closer to him. "I guess… in the beginning. When this was strictly business, or friendship. And maybe a little when you wanted me to get over you."

"Oh."

I looked away. "I thought this was all just a lie to you."

"But it wasn't!" he burst out loudly. "I promise, Emily. I would never lead someone on like that. Trust me."

My eyes found his again. "But you don't trust me."

"What?"

"With the truth," I clarified, tears finally sneaking out. "And if we don't have trust, then what _do_we have?"

A long silence followed my words.

"It's not that I don't trust you," he said in a low voice sometime after. "It's just that I don't want to think about it. And I'd rather not. There was a reason that I didn't go out with anyone for the last two years."

"Why me?" I asked as I brushed away my tears.

"You made me forget." He whispered it so quietly, I was sure he didn't want me to hear it. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him. He brought his hands around my sides and slipped his hands under my shirt. I froze.

"What are you doing?"

"Let me see," he requested, repeating my earlier words. He wanted to see my bruises. Did I want him to see? Would he freak out? Would he be disgusted? Would he suddenly disappear, like he did that morning? I swallowed and retracted my hands, shaking my head.

"I don't want you to."

"Please."

"I forgot to cover them this morning."

"You cover them?"

"With a spell," I admitted quietly. "Comes off in water."

He pulled my hands close and pressed his lips against them. "Don't cover them around me. I won't freak out again. I swear."

I started to shake. "They're disgusting. Why do you want to see?"

He didn't answer, but let go of my hands and pushed my shirt upwards slowly, as though he was asking again. And for some reason, I let him.

I closed my eyes as he pulled my shirt over my head, keeping them closed as his eyes searched my torso. I didn't want to see his reaction. I didn't want to see his face screwed in revulsion; I didn't think I could stand it.

To my surprise, his hand was shaking as it ran across my skin. His thumb traced my sides first before making its way to the middle. The back of his hand brushed the scratches, softer than feathers, up to the bottom of my bra, and even though it didn't hurt, I winced.

"Open your eyes," he breathed. I shook my head. "Why not?"

"Didn't want you to see."

"But now I have."

"Don't want to see your reaction."

"Why not?"

"No one has seen these before," I replied, a fresh wave of tears coming over me. "Scorpius barely saw anything. I've never shown a Healer, and I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"They're so… how can you do it?" I demanded. "I avoid seeing them as much as possible. It's like he's always there, like he'll never just leave me alone. How can you stand to look at them? How can you stand to look at me?"

I could hear his breathing laboured and forced. His fingers brushed around my middle again. "I don't think your scars have anything to do with how beautiful you are."

I opened my eyes. He didn't look disgusted in the slightest.

After I'd put on my shirt, I collapsed into him. There was no doubting it; I loved him so much it hurt, and I didn't even know if I could tell him. He was the brave one. It was him who confessed things and took a stand. I was the one who planned it.

"Thank you," I whispered. He shook his head.

"I can't believe I forgot."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay."

"No, it's fine."

"It's _not –_"

"Stop it, Al," I said firmly, leaning back to look at him properly. "I overreacted. I acted on impulse. Your parents are right, we are being immature."

"But –"

"Maybe this is why people don't get married so early." I bit my lip, and his eyes drew to it. "We need to grow up before deciding we can handle everything on our own."

"I think you're right," he said, still looking at my lips.

"Yeah."

"There's a part of us that doesn't know what we want yet."

"Exactly."

"And we make the wrong decisions. All the time."

"Al, stop staring my lips."

He broke into a smile, gripping my hips toward him so that we were closer. And closer. His breath was tickling my nose. "Why?" One of his hands was on the small of my back, now, making me shiver. His eyes were centimetres from mine. He was so close.

"Because you look like you want to kiss me."

"This happened last time, didn't it?" he contemplated out loud, his voice barely above a whisper. "You kissed me. I didn't kiss you back. Then I kissed you to make up for it."

"So you just want to make up for not kissing me back this morning?" I teased.

"Not only that." He moved closer, his lips so close to mine that if I moved, I would brush against them. "I want to. It's my turn."

"You still want me to get over you."

His breath hitched. "Last time. Then we're done playing games."

"Last time?" I echoed, feeling my heart drop.

He held me tighter. "I'm not using you. I just…" He struggled to find the words, but I understood. There was something inside him telling him that he shouldn't be doing this, but he wanted to anyway.

_He wanted me anyway._

His lips pressed mine before I was even aware I had nodded. We clung to each other, a tangle of arms and legs and our bodies pressed against each other. I gripped every part of him I could. He was everywhere, his heartbeat, his ragged breath, his sweet taste and his warmth surging through me, and all I could think was _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou._

We stayed there long after we'd stopped kissing. I told him about Azkaban. He told me what his siblings has theorized about their father. We talked and held each other until the early hours of the morning. I think I had fallen asleep mid-sentence, lying against him.

I didn't know how it happened, or how it happened in the span of two months, but I had fallen hard for Albus Potter. We were having a serious lack of communication issue, he was scared to tell me something, but I think he wanted to protect me. I think he cared more than he was willing to admit.

So where were we supposed to go from here?


	27. Albus: The Bond

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Albus: The Bond**

"Oi, lovebirds, you've got a worm to catch."

"Mmmf." Something had grumbled and vibrated against my chest. My back was aching. My side was burning. There was a weight on me that wasn't budging.

"Come on. Get up."

I didn't. I could tell that if I moved, I would fall off whatever surface I was on.

"Seriously, you have to wake up."

I tried opening my eyes – _nope. _Not a good idea. Too bright.

"Bloody hell. Mum, they won't move!" Moments later, a heard footsteps come into the room. They stopped a few steps away. I heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Lily, don't they look adorable?"

"They do," said my sister, her voice becoming soft.

"I don't think Al knows this, but yesterday, Emily told us –"

"I'm up!" said a loud voice in my ear, drowning out my mother and sister. I winced and scrambled away from the deafening noise, only to have fallen off whatever I had been lying on top of.

"My arse hurts," I whined, and my mother and sister started laughing. I opened my eyes to find that I was on the floor beside my couch. Emily was hastily throwing off the blanket I'd given her and blushing deeply.

"Morning," my sister chirped, skipping happily away now that her job was done. Mum shook her head and laughed.

"Come on," she commanded, taking my hand and yanking me off the floor and into her arms, planting a big kiss on my cheek. "Good morning."

"Morning, Mum," I muttered, wiping her saliva off my cheek. I could see Emily in my peripheral vision, trying her best not to laugh. Mum engulfed her in a hug two seconds later, surprising her.

"Morning, Mrs. Potter," she said shyly. I stretched obnoxiously, making Em laugh.

"Al, pull your pajamas up," my mother scolded, reaching to do it for me. My face burned a bright red. In front of Emily? Really, Mum? Emily laughed again, which made me feel a bit better. "You can't look like that at the ministry today."

I immediately pulled away. "Ministry?"

"Yes, why do you think we're waking you up at six in the morning?"

"_Six_?" I groaned and flopped onto the couch again. There were indents from where we'd slept, which was for a grand total of _three hours._"You've got to be bloody kidding me."

"If you use that kind of language again, I'm going to have to ground you."

I rolled my eyes. "I think we're done with the childish punishments, Mum."

"Then stop acting like a child!" She turned to Emily, apparently having finished talking to me. "Make sure he's downstairs in half an hour for breakfast, and you leave at seven-thirty. Courtroom sixteen at the ministry. After that, we'll help you move your stuff in."

"Will do –"

"Oi, I can do that myself," I insisted, standing up again. Mum rolled her eyes and left. I swore again, beginning to grumble under my breath. "Merlin, my own mother doesn't even have faith in me, and she thinks the sodding minister of magic will believe me…"

"Al?"

"Hmm?" I hummed distractedly, still staring at the door where my mum disappeared.

"Good morning," Emily greeted softly, surprising me by wrapping her arms around me and pecking my cheek. I relaxed.

See, _this _is how you say 'good morning' to someone.

"Morning," I said, placing my arms around her waist. "You sleep okay?"

"I had a good pillow," she said, blushing furiously. I gaped at her; Emily was flirting with me. Shamelessly. Granted, it had happened a few times before, but it was still weird when it happened.

I swallowed. "That's – that's good." Shit, I was going to lose my mind to a bit of flirting. It's not like I saw her without a shirt the night before or anything. It was freaky, but between you and me? I still thought she was hot as hell.

Must. Not. Lose. Resolve.

Merlin, that night was… something. I knew what James and Lily were talking about. Even _I _barely recognized who I was. Who was speaking to her last night? How did I even know what to say? I didn't feel like myself around her. I both hated and liked who I became, because he knew what to say in awkward situations, but it didn't feel like _me._But I was also happier around her.

Bloody hell, I sound like a girl.

We talked out what happened, she showed me her bruises (like I said… freaky), we snogged (for a _really _long time) and then we talked until three in the morning. About stupid stuff, too. It started out with the ministry and my family and Rose and Malfoy and their baby and ended up talking about food. Emily tried to stay awake, but she fell asleep in the middle of explaining her favourite food from Rome. I pulled blankets over us, and she hogged them again. Typical.

(I wish we had more nights like these.)

I realized we'd been staring at each other. She was wearing my shirt and pajamas; by the time we realized we were going to bed, everyone was asleep and she couldn't borrow anyone else's clothes. They were baggy but looked better on her than me. I scratched at the back of my neck.

"Umm, so I guess you'd better take a shower," Emily suggested, biting her lip. I wished she wouldn't do that. I don't think she understood what that does to me.

"You can go first." We were being awkward, but we'd get over it. We always did.

She nodded and grabbed her clothes from the day before and kissed my cheek again before skipping off to the bathroom. Where she'd take off her – well, my clothes. And then shower. Naked.

I leaned against a wall and banged my head on it.

(In case you were wondering, I don't recommend that.)

* * *

You know what? Siblings have to be the most evil people on earth. Not only are they unafraid in teasing you, but completely shameless. Especially when parents are nowhere to be found.

Why do they have to go to work so early? THEY COULD HAVE DEFENDED ME.

(Ahem… not that I _needed _it.)

Still. I was just sitting there, at the breakfast bar, sandwiched between James and Lily as they poked at me. Literally and figuratively. Perhaps it was because as soon as I finished my cereal (which took about a total of thirty seconds), my forehead hit the counter.

That's when the poking started.

_Poke. "_Hey Al, why are you so tired?"

_Poke. _"How many angles can your hair stick up, exactly?"

_Poke_. "Were you and Emily up late – " suspected eyebrow wiggling from my brother dearest "– _doing _something?"

_Poke._"I mean, he's got the hair for it."

_Poke._"Like Al could ever get some."

_Poke._ "You know, I think I have to agree – but mostly because it looks like he needs a _really _cold shower."

"Bloody hell," I grumbled, my face turning bright red as it lifted from my arms. "Do you guys ever shut up?"

My brother and sister grinned, looking practically identical. I always thought they should've been twins, they were very similar and practically the same – except, of course, the whole male and female thing. And hair. And professions…

"How're you two so happy at six in the morning?" I asked grumpily, turning back against the counter and burying my face in my hands.

"Early riser."

"Quidditch practice."

"You look like someone ran you over," Lily said bluntly, flicking me in the forehead like she and James used to do all the time. I flinched, and they quirked their eyebrows. James was right; I _never _used to react to their teasing.

There was something severely wrong with me.

"So," I said weakly, trying to change the subject to something that _wasn't _me. "The ministry. Should be fun."

"We got the letter from an owl pecking Mum and Dad's window at five in the morning," James said, shoveling some cereal in his mouth and chomping off a bit of banana at once. His mouth was still half-full when he spoke again. "It's a group meeting, apparently."

Something in my stomach unknotted itself. "Group meeting?"

"Yeah, for you and all the other fake couples."

"Oh."

There was a pause.

"Why did you do it?" Lily asked in a quiet voice, as though it made a difference. "I didn't even know you and Emily were friends at Hogwarts."

"We weren't."

"You married someone you barely knew?" James stated in a horrified tone. "Bloody hell, Al. Are you _mad_?"

"Hey," I said indignantly, rubbing my cool forehead, "it was for a good cause! The ministry's being ridiculous, Death Eaters have been inactive for years!"

"So you did it to save her? That's all that was going through your mind?" Lily asked in disbelief.

I thought about it and shrugged. "She's hot?"

Lily smacked my head as James nodded in agreement. I grinned sleepily as we fist-bumped, but that only further angered my sister. She smacked James this time.

"Oi!"

"Calm yourself, you feminist," I told her, grabbing her around the neck and putting her in a headlock. She squealed something about me messing up her hair, and I laughed. "I promise I have not taken advantage of Em."

"Of course not," she said crossly and cursing under her breath. "You're in love with her, how could you?"

There was another pause as my grip slackened and she wiggled out.

There was that word again. _'Love._'

James snorted, and my eyes travelled to him. His raised an eyebrow. "What, you mean you haven't figured it out yet?"

I straightened in my chair and crossed my arms against my chest. "I'm not in love with her."

"Yes you are."

"I've only known her for two months."

"People fall in love at first sight."

"Not us."

"Oh, come on," Lily butted in, looking between James and I with a trace of amusement in her eyes. "I saw you two this morning. Snuggling on the couch? What happened to your don't-touch-me-or-you're-dead-but-I-like-hugs routine?"

"I never said that!"

"Actually, it was more like don't-touch-me-unless-you're-my-mum," James interjected. My eyes turned to slits.

"You're dead."

"Ooooooh, I'm so scared of my scrawny little journalist brother."

"Says the part-time _therapist_, James?" I smirked at his scowl. We always fought like this. "I thought you needed one. Didn't think you'd become one."

"At least I'm not scared of my own girlfriend."

"Found another whore, James?"

"Actually, no –"

"Good morning, guys." I spun around at the sound of Emily's voice, ignoring the creak in my neck and the chortling from my siblings. She entered the kitchen, looking distracted and stressed. She was wearing yesterday's clothes and her hair was still damp.

"Morning," Lily said cheerfully. "Want some cereal?"

Emily smiled sleepily, and to my surprise, turned my chair and sat down. In my lap. Shit. She didn't seem to notice anything as she closed her eyes and dug her back into my chest, sighing softly and closing her eyes. James and Lily looked shocked. I turned red.

"Tired?" James asked uneasily, probably feeling uncomfortable at the sight.

"Yeah." She opened her eyes, suddenly realizing what she was doing. In front of my siblings. She must've been really tired. "Shit. I'll move."

"No, don't move!" Lily said excitedly, scrambling out of her chair and heading upstairs. She called over her shoulder. "I'm getting the camera!"

Hell no.

Emily looked anxiously at me before pushing away. "I'll move."

"No," James interrupted, blocking the way. I scowled at him. He was obviously doing it to irritate me. He was good at that.

"But –"

"Got it!" Lily appeared back in the kitchen, the family camera around her neck. "James, get out of the picture."

"But I'm the best part –"

"Someone deflate his head, please," Lily said loudly, making him glare at her. Emily and I burst out laughing at his expression – the opportune moment, obviously, to take the picture. The light flashed in my eyes.

"I've been blinded!" I moaned dramatically, and she giggled again. Merlin, I didn't even know Emily was capable of giggling. She almost seemed normal. I slid my arms around her to turn and get a good look.

Yup. Definitely Emily.

After Lily was done squealing and taking pictures and James was finished protesting the size of his ego, they'd settled for bickering over us. Emily's head was resting in the crook of my neck. I think she was sleeping.

"Oi, get up," I said softly, nudging her. She shook her head.

"I don't want to go."

"I heard it's just a group meeting with all the fake couples."

"Don't care."

"I need to shower." Boy, did I.

"Yeah, you smell."

"Then get up."

"I'm sure you'd like that."

"Come on, Em," I whined, and she let out another giggle. Merlin, that was cute. She pressed a kiss on my jaw before opening her eyes and sliding off my legs. I got up and stretched as I left the kitchen, catching my sister's question as I made my way up the stairs.

"So Emily, did you know you have a hickey on your neck?"

… oops.

* * *

I had my cold shower, I swear – but I was still dying.

No. Really. I wasn't walking straight. I was dizzier than the day before. My side still ached like hell. The only thing that was keeping me grounded was Emily's hand gripping mine tightly, and she was just as tired as I was.

"Are you okay to stay?" she asked quietly, touching my side through my shirt where I'd splinched myself.

"I dunno." I attempted to stand straight. The sleep I lost the day before and then not sleeping until three in the morning was not smart. At all. I was beginning to feel irritable. I looked along the corridors; the ministry was the same as it's always been: professional looking with its mail folded and flying everywhere and gruff-looking wizards pushing past as though they were in a hurry.

"Courtroom sixteen," she muttered, leading me through the ministry. I didn't have a clue to how she knew where to go, but I let her pull me into crowded elevator, squeezing in between two very tall wizards. I frowned.

I hated when people were taller than me.

The elevator stopped in a darkened hallway. I squeezed my way out and followed Emily, checking the courtroom numbers as we walked along the corridor. Finally, we approached _13... 14... 15..._

"Sixteen," Emily whispered again. She stopped just short of the door and took a deep breath. I smiled encouragingly at her and placed my hand on the small of her back to push her through the door.

When my siblings told me this was a group meeting, they couldn't be more accurate; there were literally groups of two chairs scattered all over the courtroom. It didn't really look like a courtroom; someone had moved the podium over and put it off to the side on a temporary stage. The black curtains were shut. It literally looked like some kind of theatre.

The courtroom was just about half full. We shuffled our way to a couplet of chairs in the middle of the front of the room and looked around. Some couples were relaxing, smiling and chatting. Some were sweaty and looking around nervously, fidgeting. Some were calmly holding hands, not speaking but not panicking (at least, not on the outside). Other couples were clearly... not couples. Even Emily and I were better at acting.

You know. If you could call what we were doing 'acting'...

But these people were a sight to see. One of them were holding hands but shifted so far away from each other that half their butts were literally off the seats. I'm not even exaggerating a little.

I pointed it out to Emily and she relaxed, giggling again. I loved it when she did that.

Wait. Not love. I really really really really _really _liked it.

That's all.

Duh.

She leaned her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. I don't know how she did it; the day before, she visited her father in Azkaban, thought I was using her, got yelled at by me because I thought her scars were recent, told my parents everything, got yelled at by _my _parents, showed me her scars, snogged me and talked to me until she fell asleep. And then she was at the ministry with three hours of sleep.

She had to be some kind of miracle worker. I wondered what else she had hidden up there in that Slytherin mind of hers.

"You know," I whispered in her ear, "you got even less sleep than I did."

"Hmm?"

"I was unconscious all day, remember?"

She shifted and I wrapped an arm around her. "You haven't been sleeping well for days."

"But still..." The words died in my mouth as she reached over and touched my side.

"You're hurt, though," she stated matter-of-factly, tracing through my shirt. "When this is over, just go home and sleep, okay? I'll get Scorp to help me with the moving."

"But -"

"Shhh," she whispered, settling into my side and smirking at me in victory. The lights were dimming and the spotlights appeared. "It's about to start."

* * *

The first thing I noticed about this presentation that it was very fake-happy. The minister was clearly all for the everything's-just-dandy-even-if-we're-probably-about-to-kill-you expression plastered across his face.

The spotlight centred in the middle of the black curtain, and after the chatter had died down, Mr. Birch appeared with that expression. I kind of just wanted to shove his shiny bald head down a toilet. Probably wouldn't have helped our case, but he couldn't read minds.

(OR COULD HE?)

(No, he couldn't.)

"Welcome!" he pronounced, so obviously fake that I had to snort. "I'm glad you all could make it." _As if we had a choice._"I understand you are the couples that didn't make it to probation?"

A murmur went through the crowds. Heads nodded in agreement.

"Good," he said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. He moved to the podium on the left, the spotlight moving with him. "We have come up with a solution for this little issue."

'_Little issue'?_I glanced at Emily, who had straightened up and mouthed the words.

The curtains slid open to reveal a projection screen. Little ticking began as someone turned it on, flickering until words appeared. The spotlight shut off.

_Are you related to or associate with a Death Eater, Slytherin or Pure Blood?_  
_Have you married someone to prove your resistance?_  
_Has the ministry deemed your marriage false?_

_WORRY NO MORE!_

_The Ministry of Magic is proud to introduce the Bond Spell._

The projection went off and the spotlight appeared back at Mr. Birch again. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, sending a chill up my spine. Emily squeezed my hand; I could tell she was getting really nervous.

What was the Bond Spell?

Mr. Birch clapped his hands together again. "This is a new development here at the Ministry," he began with earnest. "The Bond Spell will literally pull two people together, by say..." He held his hands together to demonstrate. "Invisible strings. Held ten metres apart at all times."

The silence in the room was suffocating.

"Here are your choices," he said, suddenly losing his bouncy attitude and becoming businesslike. The projection flickered on again, and he walked towards it, wand outstretched.

Mr. Birch smacked the screen under the words with his wand. "_Option Number One: The Bond Spell_," he read, turning around. "If you choose this option, you, your spouse and your respective families will be let free from court, no questions asked."

"_Option Number Two,_" he continued, and the screen changed. He smacked it again. "_No Bond Spell. _Every couple will be brought back to court under more serious conditions." The projector went off, the wand was stowed in his robes and his ridiculous expression was back again. "Any questions?"

"Bloody hell," Emily whispered, pressing her forehead against my arm. "There's no winning."

This was all sounding awfully familiar.

What was it that she said back in Rome? "_They'll probably come up with something that'll make us sacrifice something else, so we'll be less likely to agree to it. It means the condition has to be something we won't like. They won't want us to agree to it. If we don't do it, it'll prove our marriage is fake. If a couple refuses, they'll be more inclined to capture them. They don't care if they're throwing innocent people in prison, as long as they _think_ they're getting somewhere."_

Emily was right. She'd been right all along.

My attention was brought back as someone raised their hand. Mr. Birch pointed to him.

"What _is _the Bond Spell, exactly?" he asked uneasily, his voice shaky. "How does it work?"

The minister seemed to be caught off-guard - but only for a second. I didn't understand how he could possibly delude himself into thinking someone wouldn't ask that.

His happy-go-lucky expression was back within a matter of seconds. "Well, as I explained before, it's clearly the _best _option," he emphasized. "The Ministry deems you innocent because you and your spouse will be literally bound for the rest of your lives, ten metres away from each other." He made more hand motions. "Where you go, your spouse will go, and vice versa."

So basically, it was so bloody awful that even real couples wouldn't want it.

The person who asked must've still looked confused because Mr. Birch was suddenly looking out into the audience. "Perhaps this would be more clear with a demonstration? Would anyone like to volunteer to get the bond? Someone who has already decided?"

The room fell dead silent.

"Oh, there must be someone out there!" he exclaimed, his belly bouncing as he laughed. "Come forward. Anyone. Don't be shy. Your families will have nothing to do with the ministry after this. You will have proved yourself worthy to be a part of our community. Everyone will be safe and sound."

A chair squeaked as someone moved. Mr. Birch lit up in delight. "Yes, step right forward!" he encouraged. "Don't be shy! This won't even hurt. Just a simple spell, really." And it wasn't his expression or his bloody cheerful voice or his general behaviour that was making me freeze up in my seat.

It was the fact that he was looking at me.

And it was Emily who was standing up.

"There we have it! A brave soul," Mr. Birch chattered on, but I barely heard him. My legs felt like lead as Emily pulled me up. I couldn't bring myself to look at other people's faces; they were probably looking at us in horror. Emily, making a split-second decision. Being impulsive. Without asking me.

Again.

We reached the stage. I squinted in the spotlight, trying to focus on Mr. Birch and what his head would look like down the toilet. Probably the best place for it, really. His smile was freaking me out and Emily was squeezing my hand to death.

Emily.

What the bloody _fuck _was she doing?

"Wonderful!" Mr. Birch raved upon seeing who we were. "Looks like we've got the Potters up here. Wonderful choice, as Harry Potter himself was sacked yesterday. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful."

I began to shake. I wanted to kill him.

"Stand at arm's length apart," he instructed, "and shake hands as though you're about to make an Unbreakable Vow." We did so, our eyes locking. Emily was looking as though she was trying to say something - to apologize - but I wouldn't have it. I shook my head. It was as though disappointment and anger was raging through my veins, difficult to control.

Mr. Birch stepped behind us - it was a demonstration, after all - and tapped our intertwined hands. He was explaining something to the crowd, but I didn't listen to him. I couldn't rip my eyes away from Emily's; they were filling with tears. I didn't know why I had the urge to wipe them away and hold her and also get as far away as possible.

It couldn't be love.

And that just made everything so much worse.

Mr. Birch's voice was echoing in my ears but I couldn't decipher the words. He was performing the spell. A gold bond, looking oddly like a wedding band, wound around where our hands were clasped and tightened around them. I didn't feel a thing. Then, with another tap of his wand, it closed in as though it was amputating our hands and disappeared into our skin, making our hands glow.

Then Emily let go.

"Step backwards," he said, and somehow through my foggy mind, I did so. Emily and I stepped away from each other as far as we could, until suddenly, it felt as though I was being pulled back in her direction, like a rubber band. Judging by the look on her face, so did she.

I was bonded to Emily.

For the rest of my life.

Mr. Birch was blithering on about something again. Something about how he could trust Emily and I and our love for one another because of this bond. Something about how her family had a rough patch, he knew that he could let them go and the wizarding community would be in no danger from them.

I suddenly understood why he was the Minister of Magic: he created these fears and then gave false security to people, when in fact there was _nothing _wrong. He told people he was doing something about problems that didn't exist.

It was genius, really.

But that didn't make it any better.

* * *

After the demonstration was over, Mr. Birch told the rest of the audience that they had a week to decide their option. They filed out of the courtroom. Mr. Birch disappeared to send an OWL to Azkaban for the release of Emily's father, telling us to wait so he could confirm. As soon as he left, she turned to me.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted out stepping forwards. I turned away from her. "No, Al. Please. I had to. For my dad."

My throat was tight. "You could've waited. You could've asked me."

"Al, you didn't see him yesterday," she insisted, touching my shoulder. I shrugged her hand off. "You didn't see him. It was like he wasn't there. Like half of him had died. And my parents..." I heard her swallow. "They're miserable without each other."

I turned around. My hands were shaking. "You ask for too much."

"What?"

"I'm okay with being married to you for as long as it takes," I said quietly, in case Mr. Birch came back. "I'm okay with paying for a house I don't need. I'm okay with sleeping in the same bed. I'm okay with spending time with you, because I _like _you. But this is too much."

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. "We're both too bloody independent for this. And you did the same thing you did yesterday when you told my parents what was going on. What the hell were you thinking?"

"You would've done the same if it was your dad."

"Maybe I would've been considerate of you, first. Not been so selfish."

She was crying now. "Al, I -"

"Save it," I muttered, rubbing my forehead. It was beginning to ache.

* * *

When Mr. Birch finally came back and told us that Mr. Goyle was on his way out of Azkaban, I couldn't leave fast enough. I just felt so furious and disappointed and shocked and all I wanted to do was get away from Emily so I could cool down, but I couldn't. It was the one thing I couldn't do. So I kept walking towards the exit.

And Emily really had no choice but to follow me.

We reached the elevator, which was, miraculously, empty. Emily stayed quiet. I knew she wanted to say something, but what could she do? Apologize? She'd already done that, and I think she knew I wasn't accepting those from her at the moment. She stood beside me, wiping her eyes and sniffing.

Just as we reached the main floor, she'd decided that she wanted to speak. I walked as fast as I could in retaliation. I didn't know where I was going anymore. Everything was a blur. It was though I was walking towards the tunnel instead of in it - but I couldn't reach the entrance.

"Al, listen to me," she requested quietly, jogging to keep up.

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Al -"

I cut her off by taking a sharp turn, and somehow, we ended up in the foyer. Unfortunately, this was where all the paparazzi were. Probably having heard of the big news - the Bond Spell - and waiting for someone.

Three guesses who.

"Shit," I muttered as they spotted us. I had managed to avoid the paparazzi by going to muggle places. Emily and I went out to eat all the time. The only time she'd really experienced the media was after I'd "proposed", if you could call it that.

So when we were suddenly surrounded by recorders and quills and parchments and flashing cameras and all sorts of mangled wizards, I wasn't surprised that Emily was suddenly clutching my hand with a death grip.

"Albus Potter, what do you think of this new development?"

"Mr. Potter, does your father know about your decision of the law?"

"Mrs. Potter, is it true that you volunteered for the bond?"

"Mr. Potter, is it true that your marriage is falling apart?"

"Albus, can we get your opinion on marrying early?"

I blinked rapidly. It was like my sister in the morning with her camera, but it wasn't lovingly or teasingly. Paparazzi wanted to manipulate my family, to hurt and twist us until there was no story to tell. Until they had bled us dry. Then they would move on to someone else.

"It's okay," I whispered, tugging her towards the exit. "Come on. Just don't say anything."

She couldn't even if she wanted to; she was frozen to the spot. It was clear that she was terrified of these people, and while I avoided the reporters, I wasn't _scared _of them.

But even I was panicking, because when she didn't move, the reporters saw it fit to begin cornering us. I stepped in front of Emily as her back hit the wall, shaking my head and trying to keep my mouth shut and somehow get out of this mess.

Then suddenly, everything went black.

A hand yanked my arm and I lost Emily as I was being pulled away from the scene. I was full-on panicking now; what was going on? Why couldn't I see? I kept blinking, but it didn't make a difference. I could hear Emily struggling and whispering my name; it seemed this person had grabbed us both.

With my free hand, I groped in the pitch-black world for Emily. I could still hear her struggling and the paparazzi, but it seemed that we were being pulled away from them. Whoever grabbed us let go. Then it hit me.

Instant Darkness Powder. Of course.

I was getting my vision back when I saw a boy peeking around the corner. We were in an empty corridor. I could hear the paparazzi shouting their confusion from also not being able to see, then enraged to where we'd gone. I sighed in relief. This boy had helped us escape.

Eventually, the noise faded and died. The boy turned around to look at us. He was about my age, taller than me, lean and had brown hair that stuck up at the back. His eyes widened at the sight of me... then Emily.

And then the next thing I knew, he was kissing her.


	28. Emily: The Imbalance

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Emily: The Imbalance**_  
_

_Ew._

Of course, this is the first thing I think when someone is kissing me.

But can you blame me? We were being surrounded my reporters and I was frozen and couldn't move and suddenly I couldn't even _see _and then was yanked somewhere and I could tell this wasn't Al because this person was squeezing my arm so hard and everything was a blur.

And the next thing I knew, someone was kissing me.

Someone who wasn't Al.

Bloody hell, I was not okay with that.

And the worst part was that this kiss was so familiar that it made my stomach clench in fear. He were backing me against the wall, his lips chapped and forceful. It was exactly like before: I would struggle, and he would think I was just kissing him back.

I struggled against his grip, wiggling my wrists that were trapped in his hands and trying to break free. Unfortunately, that only resulted in a groan when he thought I was reciprocating; he tightened his grasp on my wrists and slammed me against the wall. Hard. I felt a sickening sense of pain as my head made contact with the bricks.

It was deja vu. When all the memories came flooding back, when I remembered. He was the one who had hurt me. The one who had broken my skin and dug deep in my wounds. The one who had made me think I wasn't worth it - worth being _myself._The one who had convinced me that I didn't deserve the company of others.

It was David. The one who taught me to hate myself.

I was unaware to when they'd started, but tears began pouring down my cheeks. He was too strong. I felt as though I was back in my fifth year, when he used to do this to me, forcefully and vigorously. Because he could. Because he wanted to. Because he wanted control. Because I let him, because I was in love with him. Because I didn't stand a chance.

I never wanted that to happen again.

My knee found its way between his legs and sprung upwards; David immediately broke the kiss and gasped, his face breaking into a twisted, ugly expression of both pain and fury. I knew where this was going: he was going to insult me and then storm away. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the blow.

It never came; I heard a sickening crunch and a thump. My eyes snapped open to find David rolling on the ground, clutching his nose and cursing. Al was standing above him. He looked angrier than I'd ever seen him before.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat.

David didn't answer. Al kicked him in the ribs.

"Bloody - _stop_," he groaned, shuffling away from Al. He was seemingly unaware of how angry Al was; it was though I could feel the heat vibrating from him, but David only moaned and infuriated Al further.

"Who -" _kick_ "- _are_ -" _kick_"- you?" He kicked him again, and David groaned.

"David," he replied through clenched teeth. "David Nott."

Al stared down at him, breathing hard and not saying a word. His green eyes were blazing, shimmering as his body shook. His fists were clenched, knuckles bruised and he was subconsciously putting his weight on his left side because he'd splinched the other side. He was sinfully attractive.

He looked in my direction for a second before his eyes fluttered back to David. For a split second, I thought he was going to say something -

_Wham._

Al chose that moment to stomp exactly where I'd kneed David minutes before. When he spoke, his voice was low and murderous and sent a shiver up my spine.

"Don't touch her again."

David stood up off the floor, wincing in pain and wiping the blood off his face, only smearing it. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Potter, you _bastard -_"

"Shut up." My voice was trembling but the words tumbled out of their own accord. David eyes immediately pleaded mercy, stepping closer to me - but Al pushed him back.

"Em, don't you want this?" he demanded, eyeing Al apprehensively. "It's been years."

"You - you think I - _don't fucking call me that!_" I shouted through my tears. He backed up as I pulled out my wand. I couldn't decipher my thoughts through my fury and despair and fear. "Don't come near me. Don't you _dare._"

David took one last piercing glare at me before taking off, doing a sort of run-limp away from us. I watched him leave, my mind filling with questions that bounced off each other. I couldn't help it. It was all just a confusing blur of events.

_Why did he save us?_

_Why did he kiss me?_

It was weird, kissing him again. Well, not exactly; I wasn't kissing him. I was kind of just trapped in his grasp, hoping he would let go of me because it was rather disgusting. Not that he was necessarily a bad kisser, but he was so forceful that I felt uncomfortable all over. It was sort of funny, feeling his lips on mine, just because I didn't understand why I craved that when I was fifteen. It wasn't loving or soft, like how Al kissed me.

It's quite possible I should've asked this question a long time before I decided I was in love (again), but like I said, I couldn't help it.

What the bloody hell is love?

How do you know you're in love? What does it feel like? And how do we know it's love and not infatuation?

And perhaps it's a bit cliche to think I was never really in love with David - but it's just the truth. I _wasn't _in love with him. I was so caught up in how he made me feel that when I came down from cloud nine, I wasn't happy with where I was. Sure, there have been quite a few who have caused my heart to flutter, my palms to get sweaty, etc., but it doesn't mean I was ever in love. Why else didn't I want to put in the effort to make it work?

I have yet to understand why I thought I was in love with David. Sure, at fifteen years old I didn't exactly have the best judgement, but had I really deluded myself enough to think I was in love with him while he was beating me?

What was I thinking?

I was suddenly brought back into perspective when Al grunted loudly, breaking my thoughts. Suddenly, he whipped around violently and kicked the wall.

"What the - Al, what are you doing?" I asked in a small voice. His back was towards me, his head hung low as he tried to stop shaking. He turned around and slid down the wall, head in his hands and keeping his knees to his chest.

I moved closer and knelt down beside him. The floor was cold, but I didn't care; I leaned over and kissed the top of his head. His breath was coming out short and he was still shaking all over. I reached over and gently moved his face towards mine. He kept his eyes shut.

"Just breathe, Al," I whispered. He made a jerking motion before took a couple of deep breaths in through his nose, letting his feet slide down across the floor. The next thing I knew, he was gripping me tightly and pressing his forehead against my shoulder, his chest moving wildly against mine. I rocked him back and forth.

After a while, he spoke. "I... I don't think I've ever beat someone up before," he whispered, swallowing. "Hexing is different. I've never hurt anyone like that."

I didn't say anything. Just listened. It was as though something was clicking in my mind: Al never talked about himself. It was always about his family or his work or other people. It was always me doing the talking. I didn't know anything about his life other than what I'd observed.

How could it be love if I didn't know him?

Then again, why did I feel as though I knew him so well?

He let out another breath. "I hate him... but I still feel like shit after hurting him. I don't know how he could ever hurt you, Emily."

I shrugged. "Maybe he hated me more."

"Not possible." He shifted back and ran a hand up to the back of my head, where it had hit the wall. His fingers stopped where my head was throbbing. "Are you okay? You've got a bump."

"I'm a little dizzy," I admitted, "but I'm not sure if that's because of my head or the lack of sleep."

His hand moved out of my hair and he brushed it with his fingers to flatten it. I smiled, my skin stretching painfully due to my tears.

"Are you still mad at me?" I asked.

"Absolutely."

"Can you keep a grudge?"

"Just watch me."

I smirked. "Can you keep one against me?"

He paused, thinking before digging his wand out of his belt. "Good question."

* * *

We were supposed to get our things and pack up to move into the Potter home, but as soon as I'd plopped down onto the family room couch for a second to rest, I'd crumpled into it. The last thing I remembered was Al tossing a blanket over me, grabbing another one and curling up on the other couch.

So much for a productive day.

I was woken sometime in the afternoon by the sound of the front door slamming shut. My eyes cracked open to see James walk into kitchen, not noticing his little brother and his wife sleeping soundly. He'd evidently come back from practice; he was wearing his Quidditch robes.

Then stripping off the top.

Awkward.

I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes. The back of my head was still throbbing. I was thinking of getting ice for it, but I still didn't really feel like getting up. I also kind of felt like an intruder; I definitely wasn't comfortable with just getting ice from the freezer. This wasn't my home.

I got up anyway, first moving towards Al and sitting beside him. He was so angry and miserable and tired at the ministry... and with David. Merlin. His eyes and his energy and the heat... even _I _was afraid. I'd never seen him so furious. I didn't know how I got him to calm down. Looking at him sleeping, I'd never imagine someone so peaceful could become so troubled.

And then he opened up and let me in - just for a moment.

Wow.

I really didn't know anything about him.

I kissed his forehead and stumbled into the kitchen, which was open the family room. James was making a sandwich with eggs, tomatoes, lettuce, beans, cheese and who-knows-what else. He looked up as I wrinkled my nose.

"Hungry?" I asked, looking wearily at his food.

"Don't judge," he scolded teasingly. He cut the sandwich in two and took a large bite. "I just came back from Quidditch practice," he explained after swallowing.

"I can see that," I said, glancing down at his bare torso. He smirked.

"Like what you see?"

"I've seen better."

"Al isn't better."

"He is to me."

"Wow," he contemplated, taking another bite of his sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. "You must really love him."

I blushed and glanced at Al, who was still asleep. "Don't tell him."

"And ruin all the fun? Never." He cracked an evil grin. It made me very suspicious.

"Can I get some ice for my head?" He frowned but nodded, watching as I made my way to the fridge. Halfway there, I was suddenly pulled backwards with surprising force; I lost balance and fell backwards, hitting my head again.

What the hell?

"Are you okay?" James asked, holding out a hand to pull me up. I nodded and rubbed the back of my head. Then I remembered: Al was sleeping on the couch, ten metres away. He was heavier than me, and therefore had a greater pull than I did.

Bloody hell, how was I going to go to the bathroom in the morning?

Or EVER?

"Can you get some ice for me?" I asked weakly, trying to resist from crying again. He looked very confused by this point, but reached into the freezer and wrapped an ice pack in a kitchen cloth for me. I pressed it against my head.

Ah, relief.

"Thank you so much," I told him, sitting down at the breakfast bar and sighing. "I don't suppose you know what's going on."

"Nope. I've been refraining from asking."

"Why?"

"Because you look really overwhelmed and to ask when you're not ready might set you off."

I paused, smiling admiringly at him. "You really are a therapist."

"Think of me as your older, wiser brother."

I grinned. "Will do." There was a pause as I shifted the ice against my head and he took another large bite of his sandwich. "Things at the ministry weren't exactly the best. I kind of made a huge mistake."

"How?" James asked, mouth still full.

I explained to him the whole story: how they had my father, and to get him out of Azkaban, I had to go along with what they wanted, which meant the Bond Spell. How Al and I were literally stuck together, and that's why I fell down.

"How does that work?" he questioned, now finished with his sandwich and sitting beside me. "I mean, the spell keeps you ten metres away from each other. Okay. But what happens if you force yourself apart?"

"I... well, I kind of spring back like a rubber band," I said. I tried to imagine the sensation. "I mean, the minister said he'd owl us about everything. I think it'd probably physically hurt to get away from each other."

James frowned yet again. I figured it was what he did when he was thinking. "Al must be really pissed off."

"Yeah, he is," I said mournfully. "But my dad's out of prison."

"Was it worth it?"

I thought back to the day before, when I'd visited. "Yeah. It's like... they don't take your soul away all at once, but piece by piece."

"I see."

"I'm scared of losing my dad."

"Does Al know that?"

I nodded, leaning my chin in my hands and propping my head up on the counter. "Better than anyone."

"Then just give him time," he advised soothingly. "I mean, you did both a selfish and selfless thing. Don't forget that. But eventually, he'll forgive you."

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

And then even more was spilling out me. It wasn't as though no one had heard the story before - Rose knew everything - but it felt good, telling him. Especially since I knew I could trust him not to blabber to the whole world (family didn't count), or not yell at me for being stupid (like Scorpius would). It felt good to let it all out.

Besides, it's nice to have a guy's opinion.

I told him everything, really. All the details I wouldn't dare tell Mr. and Mrs. Potter, but most importantly, my discovery of how Al rarely opened up to me. How it was so strange how I was able to open up to when I didn't usually trust anyone. How I didn't know if I wanted to get over Al like he'd asked. I didn't know if I wanted to try winning him back anymore.

There was a moment of silence before James spoke.

"I'm not going to pretend like I don't know what's going on with Al and why he wants you to get over him."

"Wait, you know?" I interrupted eagerly.

"Yup." He popped the 'p'. "But I'm not going to tell you."

I leaned back, disappointed. "Damn."

He laughed. "I understand his way of going about it, but for the record, I think it's incredibly cowardly. He should bloody well tell you if he's so scared."

I straightened in my chair. Again. "Scared of what?"

He laughed, pushing back his chair and swiping his jersey from the counter, where he'd tossed it. "You're not getting that out of me, Emily."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll do anything."

"You'll tell Al you're in love with him?"

I backtracked, narrowing my eyes at his smirking face. "Something reasonable."

He shook his head. "That's not happening."

"Then can you tell me something else?" I asked. His eyebrows furrowed in surprise. I fidgeted a little. "Does Al get angry very often?"

"Hmm. He's always grumpy and sarcastic." I snorted in agreement. James laughed again. "I guess you've never really seen how he is on a daily basis. He's lazy and tends to be over dramatic in a sarcastic way. He doesn't get mad at people, but he doesn't accept the facts. He pushes everything to the back of his mind and explodes. Usually by shouting or crying. Losing control."

"That's really unhealthy..." I trailed off, thinking of today. "Is he violent?"

"Not at all." He chuckled. "When he was little, he was always the one who would tattle on Lily and I to our parents. We wrestled a lot, but he usually lost. He hates conflict."

I stared at the granite counter. "I never realized that about him. He doesn't tell me anything about himself.

James thought about it, shrugged and put his plate away. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"You shouldn't give up. Not without a fight, and not when my little bro is being such a twat."

"What?"

"Get him back."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Why?"

"I want you in the family. You're good for him." He winked and ruffled my hair affectionately before leaving the room. Probably to shower, which I'd delayed for about an hour. I sighed and leapt off my chair towards where Al was still sleeping.

* * *

As I neared Al, I could see that he was lying on his side that wasn't injured, mouth was slightly open. I bit my lip. What was he scared of? Was he scared of Holly? His parents? Scorpius? Me? Love?

(That last one was wishful thinking.)

I put the ice down on the coffee table and nudged him. He groaned.

"Five more minutes."

"Budge over, you lazy arse." The corners of his mouth twitched as he squinted at me.

"What do you want?" he asked, voice full of mock annoyance. I nudged him again and lifted the blanket, slipping underneath them and snuggling into him. He snorted. "Oh, I see how it is."

"Problem?" I asked, smirking.

"I am so very angry at you," he said softly, bringing his hand up to my face and tracing my cheek with his thumb. I instantly stilled, thinking of earlier.

"Are you really angry with me?" I almost felt scared. If he was really angry, I didn't want him to lose control like that. He looked questioningly at me, and I felt a sense of shame wash over me.

"I don't think I can tell you how sorry I am," I said in a small voice. "You've already done so much for me, and I just wanted my father out of jail. I didn't even think about how you'd feel about it, or how we'd live with a stupid bond for the rest of our lives."

He exhaled softly. "I'm not as angry as I'm disappointed. I just thought that after yesterday, you'd actually talk to me before you do something. Our parents knew before I could even blink."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I'm the Gryffindor. It's supposed to be me who's impulsive."

I chuckled. "Maybe we've been rubbing off on each other."

"Maybe," he agreed. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and my eyes followed his hand, to his knuckles. I shifted so I could take it, threading my fingers through his.

"I can't believe you hit him..." I gripped his hand and turned it so I could get a better look. They were raw and bruised. "You didn't have to do that."

"I lost it." I stayed silent. I didn't really want to tell him how much he scared me. Luckily, he must've realized it on his own, because he squeezed my hand. "I did it for you."

I pressed my lips against his knuckles. "Don't say that."

"But I did," he said, voice so honest that my heart felt tight. As though it would explode. He leaned forward to kiss my hand. "And I would. Anytime. I swear."

My face broke into a smile. "And you say you want me to get over you." Before he could protest, I leaned up and pressed my lips against his. He was surprised again, but this time, he untangled our fingers and threaded them through my hair, kissing me back. We broke apart after a few moments. "So much for that, huh?" I teased.

"I don't have the energy to argue," he said defensively, smiling anyway.

I kissed him again, gripping the back of his neck; he responded enthusiastically, moving his lips over mine as he pinned me to the sofa cushions. We would've kept doing this, but we heard someone coming down the stairs. I quickly leaned back.

"We should stop," he said, but then dipped his lips to my neck.

"Oi, stop, I already have a hickey." He shrugged and I pushed at his chest. "I'm trying to thank you."

"You _were _thanking me."

"Stop thinking with your - never mind," I grumbled, and he laughed. He kissed me again. I smiled. "I don't know how to repay you for everything you've done for me. Thank you so much."

He turned me around and wrapped his arms around me just as someone came into the kitchen. We heard them pouring a glass of water and then sliding the back door open and closed. A moment passed before I felt Al's lips on my neck again. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm still mad at you," he whispered in my ear.

"Uh huh," I teased. He kissed the back of my head where the bump was. "I bet when you wake up, you'll be so mad you'll kiss me again."

"Not a chance. Last time."

"That's what you said last night."

"Don't care." He pulled the blanket around us. "Sleep. It's good for you."

"I did sleep. And then talked to James."

"Did you?"

"He's on my side." Al snorted. I reached for his hand again. "He won't tell me what's going on with you, though. He just told me you're scared."

"I'm not _scared_."

"I don't know what you have to be scared of, honestly," I said. Al opened his mouth to speak and probably agree, but I went on. "I've told you everything about me. I don't have any secrets from you. You have nothing to be afraid of."

Al went quiet.

"You know what else he told me?" I asked softly. "That you push your feelings away."

He didn't say anything.

"You told me that you didn't want to think about what happened."

He jerked slightly, but still didn't say a word.

I turned around and buried my face in his shirt. "I'm scared to trust you so much when you don't do the same."

We stayed in silence for a long time, just listening to each other's breathing. I knew he'd gotten the message - that I couldn't deal with knowing so little about him, especially when he had my heart in his hands - but he didn't know what to say.

We had this connection. We didn't really have much in common. We weren't in the same house. I didn't even know how we managed to find things to talk about, even if they were the small and silly things. But I knew that I had completely opened up to him and trusted him with my life.

Somehow, we just clicked. Maybe that's what love really is.

But was I in love or not? Was he in love with me? Did it matter?

Still he held me, and when I peeked to check if he'd fallen asleep, he hadn't. Eventually, I was immersed in a haze of warmth and tiredness and drifted off into sleep.

I still had no idea how I was going to shower the next morning.


	29. Emily: The Family

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Emily: The Family**

"Al, I really don't think -"

"Go away and let her sleep."

"It's _nine _-"

"I know that."

"She's not going -"

"No."

"Did she call in sick?"

"No, she's been sleeping."

"Al, you have to wake her up -"

"Fine. _Fine_, I'll handle it. Get out." I could tell Al was irritated, and judging by the way his sister slammed the door, so was she. I didn't know where Al was; my head was heavy and aching and everything was dark.

It _might've _helped if I opened my eyes.

I'm stupid in the morning.

I heard Al sigh from somewhere beside me. Paper crumpled and then I felt a hand on my shoulder, nudging me gently. "Emily, wake up."

I squinted sleepily. "Where am I?"

"In my room."

I opened my eyes - _hey look! It's not dark anymore!_- and found that he was right. I was curled up on Al's pillows. On the other side of the bed, Al was sitting upright with his legs crossed and a couple of books on his lap to support a piece of parchment, quill in hand.

"In your bed?" I asked.

The first time I was in his bed and I didn't remember it?

That's just sad, my friend.

He tried not to laugh. "My parents aren't too happy about it."

"I didn't think they would be." I yawned and stretched out my legs. "Did you tell them what happened, then?"

"Yep. You slept through dinner when I told them. You slapped me when I tried to wake you up." I laughed. "I had to levitate you up here. My parents aren't going to let you sleep in my bed again."

"Where am I sleeping, then?"

"I think they're getting another bed in here."

"Wonderful." I stretched my limbs I sat up slowly, observing the scattered books and parchments on the other half of the bed. "What's all this?"

"My work."

"Oh, right." I played with a strand of my hair. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Hmm?"

"You felt like shit yesterday."

Al snorted. "I'm fine, I just lost control. It tends to freak me out a bit."

_Yeah, a bit._

"I thought you'd be the one feeling like shit," Al continued, pushing his things off his lap. "I mean, haven't you been through hell through the last couple of days?"

I hadn't thought about it, really. I'd just felt it. "I guess."

"David's an asshole," Al muttered. He twirled his quill between his fingers. "Can't believe he just snogged you. I mean..." I felt a strange warmth come over my chest as he spoke. "... he hurt you... and used you... and you're married, in any case..."

I took the quill from his hand and put it down in front of him so I could crawl in his lap. To my surprise, he was so lost in his thoughts that when I settled down and pushed my forehead into his neck, he wrapped his arms around my waist to hold me to him.

"Al?" He grunted in response. "It was really weird. I didn't like it, and..." He looked at me. "The most memorable part of it was hitting my head against the wall. I was just surprised, because I didn't think the first reaction he'd have to seeing me was kissing me."

Al looked so confused. It was adorable. "_What_?"

"Didn't feel anything." I shifted; my legs were falling asleep. "That kiss was about as emotionless as a rock."

"You were kissing a _rock_?"

"Felt like it." I grinned. I couldn't help myself. "More like the rock was kissing me."

Al chuckled. "How's your head feeling?"

It was resting on his shoulder. It was doing _very _well, thanks.

I smiled. "Fine."

"Your ice melted on the coffee table yesterday."

"Shit."

"You should know that Lily took pictures of us in our sleep."

"Crap."

"And while we're on the subject of screw ups..."

"I'm late for work, I know." I closed my eyes. "I wouldn't have been able to go, anyway. I'm tired and I smell and I feel gross and I'm really not willing to move. Not to mention we're kind of stuck together."

"What are you going to do?"

"Resign."

Al jerked so abruptly I was surprised I didn't fall off his lap. I lifted my head off him as he twisted around, searching my eyes with his. He looked... worried. Confused. Irritated. Reluctant. Exhausted. Guilty. Worried.

So. Goddamn. _Cute_.

"But... you can't just..." He trailed off. I think I left him speechless.

Win.

"I've thought about it," I told him confidently. His jaw had dropped open and I fought the urge to laugh. "I've thought about it, and I even if I love this internship, I think I need to deal with this first. Besides, I don't _need _the job to go to school. I still have eight years to go, you know?"

"But... Emily, this is your career!" he argued. "We can explain to your boss the situation, maybe we can work something out -"

"Do you have the ability to write while running around?" He shook his head. I smirked. "Then I don't think it's going to work when we're stuck like this."

"But..."

"You love your job, Al," I said softly, reaching over and taking the piece of parchment he was writing on. He hurriedly took it from me and turned it over so I couldn't see the writing. "You might not get another chance at this. I can still go to school."

"Emily -"

"You've given up so much for me," I interrupted quietly, looking straight in his eyes. They lowered as I brought my hand his cheek. It was really soft, even with the bit of stubble. Merlin. "I can give up something for you."

His gaze had fixed back to my eyes. "I thought you were supposed to be the selfish one. Slytherin, remember?"

"Yeah, well..." I thought of how I told his parents without asking. And then got us in this situation without thinking of the consequences. "I'm working on that whole selfish thing. Maybe we're rubbing off on each other. I should wear red and gold soon."

"You'd look sexy in -" He cut off. I grinned as he began to stutter. "I mean - I just meant that - I didn't mean to say that out loud," he concluded, humiliated. My thumb was brushing the curve of his cheekbone as it coloured a deep red.

Must mean something, right? Al was never embarrassed.

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. "Maybe you should try Slytherin colours?"

He huffed. "I'm no Slytherin."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Damn." I faked disappointment, letting my hand drop from his face. "Green and silver. Now _that _would be sexy."

I hadn't even blinked before Al's lips were on mine.

It was a sweet kiss. One that I could easily lose myself in. Even though we kept kissing each other so randomly, there was something about this kiss that was so tender and comforting that I smiled. He smiled. His hands moved up to cup my face.

It was as though it filled my heart with sunshine and rainbows and made it beat so loudly that I couldn't breathe properly. I felt like I was on a freaking cloud. Not a real cloud, but the one we probably imagined as little children. Fluffy and white and like marshmallows. I felt like I was on one of those.

I was _lost._I was in love.

Unfortunately, breathing seemed like a dire need to function properly, so it was over way too soon. I kept my eyes closed and leaned back into him. He pulled his work onto my lap, and when I peeked at his face, he was still smiling as he wrote. The tips of his ears were red.

I wanted so badly for him to be in love with me.

I knew he fancied me, but it seemed like no matter what he said, he couldn't stop touching me, or snogging me. He had his flaws, but I felt as though I could live with them. Really. If he opened up to me, maybe we could've worked past whatever was bothering him. I mean, didn't I open up to him? Isn't that what we did?

I squeezed my eyes shut. _Let him fall in love with me. Please._

I yawned and cracked open an eyelid, trying to forget that my heart felt as though there were little wings attached to it and fluttering around. I spotted his paper and squinted a little to make out his handwriting. As soon as he caught me looking, he flipped over the parchment.

"Hey," I murmured, reaching to his hand and trying to pry it off. Didn't work. I didn't really make much of an effort, anyway. "What're you hiding?"

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like, "I don't like people watching me write."

"What?"

"I thought you were sleeping," he said, sounding slightly irritated. "Come on. You've barely slept at all in the past few days."

"You really don't care that I'm sleeping in your lap?" I asked.

"As long as you sleep." I shrugged and respected his wishes, burying my eyes back into his neck. He smelled nice. Like Autumn. I was tired. The world was fuzzy around me. I ignored what he was writing.

Sure enough, the sound of scratching on parchment was oddly lulling.

* * *

"Bloody hell."

"What are you doing here? Shove off."

"You're seriously not getting _any_?"

I tried not to snicker, still feigning sleep. Al sighed exasperatedly. "We're not – this is nothing."

Footsteps came closer to the bed. "So you're leading her on?"

"No!"

"Then what the hell is _this_?"

"I – I dunno." Al scratched the back of his head. "This is normal."

"Hate to break it to you little cuz, but this ain't _normal._" More footsteps. "Make up your mind. Emily's cool. She doesn't deserve your little mind games. Stop trying to keep her from heartbreak and break her heart at the same time."

"I _know _that."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I just… she's going to be like the last." I could tell he was trying to speak in code, now. "The exact same thing will happen as last time. I can feel it. It's already happening, she confirmed it earlier today."

"And you're just going to let her go. Without telling her."

"I don't know how to. And as you can see, we're sort of stuck together…"

"Well _get some _in the meantime."

"Fred!"

"Hey, if you don't, can I?"

I felt Al make a slight jerking motion. "No. Out."

"But you're not going to –"

"If you touch her, I swear, I will –"

"Oi, no need to send me death threats, lover boy." I could hear Fred sniggering as he left, obviously pleased that he'd managed to so thoroughly piss off his younger cousin. Al sighed and put down his quill, moving his hands to my waist and pushing me off onto the other of the bed. A curtain of hair slid over my face; through it, I watched as Al fell backwards onto his pillows.

"Merlin, am I glad you're a heavy sleeper," he whispered, turning towards me and pushing my bangs out of my face. I quickly closed my eyes.

I couldn't believe he thought I was still asleep.

Sucker.

I waited a few minutes until his breathing grew heavy; one crack of the eyelid told me he was asleep. I sat up and reached for a piece of parchment, borrowing his quill and began to write my resignation letter.

That was really hard to do.

Rose was probably there at that moment, talking the patients. Or maybe she was eating at the dingy cafeteria, scoping out hot Healers without me. Or maybe she found someone else to sit with. Someone who probably _knew _what she was talking about when she talked about clothes and makeup. Someone who shared gossip a lot better than I did.

It would be a while until I felt that exhilarating rush in the hospital again. I loved that rush. The feeling that you were helping someone, that you were their hero, coming to the rescue. I never really thought of Healing as that, but as it went on, that's what it felt like.

Merlin, I sounded like such a Gryffindor.

Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. I remember my parents talking about Hogwarts, and to be honest, it didn't sound a whole lot like what I experienced. They talked of how different houses shared classes and dueling clubs and a lot of diversity. When I went, what house you were in _defined _you.

It was a mess of cliques. You stuck to your year, your House – your _kind._You didn't date outside your circle. You only hung out with people your kind, especially if you were a Slytherin. They were probably the most exclusive House; even Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs talked once in a while. It was a constant competition, and on the Quidditch pitch, things got brutal.

Rose and Scorpius were a scandal waiting to happen. I don't remember how they met, but it was something along the lines of studying at the back of the library for years. Then being spotted talking. Then kissing. Scorpius was threatened by his friends – Rose probably was as well – but they didn't give a shit. They never asked for anyone's approval, and nobody did something as stupid as physical abuse.

Verbal abuse got the message pretty far across. They still didn't care.

But it seemed to me that everyone had traits of all the houses, and it was your strengths that defined where you slept. Unfortunately, not many spoke out to that mentality. I'd considered back then it was the ministry setting in the prejudices, and looking back, that seemed to be the case. Why else did people hate each other? Why else did couples never last? Opposites attract. It's just the way it's always been.

I finished my owl and screwed the lid back onto the ink bottle before sealing the letter, summoning the Potter family owl and tying the letter to its leg. Thank Merlin for _Accio_, or I'd never been able to do that with Al sleeping soundly, ink blot on his nose. I grinned.

So what if I had traits of a different house?

My father was in Slytherin. He married a Hufflepuff. He'd studied like a Ravenclaw.

And I'd fallen in love with a Gryffindor.

* * *

"I don't care if they're sleeping, it's lunchtime and we need to talk to them before going back to work."

"Scorpius, Rose, stop – come back here!"

Lily's voice rang out just before the bedroom door slammed open. Bloody hell, they didn't need to be so loud. I dug my head back in Al's chest, groaning and pulling him closer. He let out a snore through his open mouth.

"Guys, stop being adorable and tell us what's going on."

Al woke suddenly. "Huh?"

"Rose, is that you?" I asked.

"Yes." I felt a tug at the blanket that'd somehow found its way over us. "They're not naked!" They yanked it off, and suddenly I was cold.

"You're all bloody insane," Al grumbled, getting up and yawning. "Ever heard of knocking?"

"Ever heard of getting up before noon?" Scorpius countered, jaw tight and arms crossed over his chest. He was still in his Quidditch uniform and sweaty, looking twice as angry as he was when he found out I was pregnant.

Oops. I might've forgotten to tell him everything.

I instantly felt guilty. _I'm a terrible friend._

"Ahem." We all turned to see Lily at the door, clearly trying not to laugh. She gestured towards the stairs. "There are a lot of people here. I think we all want to know."

Al and I exchanged glances.

Well.

Shit.

* * *

When Lily said a lot of people, she really meant all the elder cousins Fred was there, (obviously), but so were Dom, Hugo, Louis, Roxanne, Molly. Apparently, Lily, James, Rose, Scorpius and Al and the rest of their cousins were all some sort of tight-knit group that shoved their noses in each other's business. It made sense – after all, they were family – but it was nothing short of annoying when they placed you in the middle of a circle with your husband and grilled you.

This was their normal way of doing this.

The Potter-Weasley clan was definitely not normal.

"So," Fred began, speaking as the eldest of the group. "We have some questions for you two."

"Emily has to take the oath, though," Molly piped up, crossing her arms stubbornly. "Otherwise, she could be lying and won't suffer the consequences."

"I'm sure we could skip it this one time," said Rose, glancing impatiently at the clock.

"Nonsense, it only takes a couple of seconds!" Fred locked eyes with me. They looked too gleeful to not be suspicious of. "Emily, put your hand over your heart."

I did as instructed. It was beating like crazy.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good*," he began. "I will not lie to the Weasley-Potter family while in our living room circle or will be forced to give up my stash of Chocolate Frogs, cards included. If I am to break these rules, you will hereby be thrown into the lake down the street. Clear?"

I blinked.

They were fucking insane.

"Just do it," Al muttered. His face was in his hand and his voice came out muffled. "The lake is about three metres deep, I swear."

I repeated the words after several tries, stumbling through it. After about five minutes of this nonsense, the chatter subsided and everything became very businesslike again. Scorpius' foot couldn't stop tapping against the floor. He'd taken the oath before, when he and Rose were getting serious.

Fred began, eyes twinkling. "Emily, what are your intentions towards my little cousin?"

I choked.

"I don't know how to answer that," I gasped. Fred pouted; his turn was lost to James. He clapped his hands happily and turned to Al.

"Have you two shagged yet?"

It was his turn to choke.

"_Yet_?" His face was bright red as he spoke. "We have not and will not shag. Ever."

I sighed. _Damn._

Heads turned towards me, surprised. Al started choking again.

Bloody hell.

I said that out loud, didn't I?

I blushed a deep red and stared down at the carpet. _Oh, that's a very nice carpet. I should tell Mrs. Potter. Right. Don't think about how everyone's staring at you. Don't think about how you just humiliated yourself. Don't cry. Everything's fine. Really._

… CRAPSHITFUCK WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DID I JUST DO.

James grinned triumphantly and Rose cleared her throat, stealing a glance at the clock again before turning to both of us. "What the hell happened yesterday? You guys are living here, now?"

"That's two questions!" Roxanne whined.

"Counts as my question," Scorpius said quickly, looking as equally impatient as Rose. He still looked furious. I faltered under his gaze. "Come on. Tell us."

We told them what happened at the ministry – my father in Azkaban, the bond spell. Somewhere along the way, I'd blurted out how Al started fancying me and then his crazy 'get over me' rule after our honeymoon. He grunted unhappily at this.

"No one can tell why," he insisted clearly, glaring around the circle. No one said a word.

Must've been a rule.

That, or he was just very scary when he was grumpy.

We confirmed that we would be moving into the Potter home the next day – when the others were supposed to move in. Whoops. Before Rose and Scorpius could protest, Dom's turn came. She regarded us thoughtfully.

"Why didn't you guys use Veritaserum?" she asked. "Rose and Scorpius did. Hasn't the whole Malfoy family been cleared?"

"We were a fake couple," I explained, "and now we've got a bond. We've been cleared anyway."

Never mind the fact that Al only fancied me. Not exactly enough for a marriage.

Lily asked how we were going to work, and I told her that I'd sent my resignation letter this morning. Molly asked why. I told her the truth: Al had given up enough for my family, and he deserved the one thing that made him happy.

Al shifted uncomfortably at this.

Hugo asked if I liked cheese and Louis asked if I played Quidditch, to both of which I responded positively. Finally, we had reached Roxanne, the youngest of the group. She had to have been only eleven – maybe a couple of months younger than Louis – but she had the biggest, most evil smirk I'd ever seen. She leaned forward on her knees and asked her question eagerly.

"Are you in love with Al?"

Al's head snapped in my direction. All eyes were on me, wide and curious. I was in the spotlight. The most difficult (and easiest) question of all, asked by the youngest cousin.

And I had to answer truthfully.

I avoided Al's piercing eyes. I wasn't ready for him to know just yet. I'd barely been able to accept it myself, and Al was clearly not in the best of moods at the moment. But I wanted his family to trust me. I liked them. I didn't want to lie, and due to our disastrous way of hiding how fake our relationship was, I wasn't very good at it, either.

"I - I don't know," I blurted out. My eyes widened. _What_? "I don't know if I am."

There was a moment of silence.

Then, all at once, the circle broke and everyone began to whisper, some smirking at me. I didn't care; I was afraid to see Al's expression – what it would be, since I hadn't answered positively or negatively? It was obvious he didn't want me to be in love with him.

He wouldn't be _that _mad, right?

His tightening jaw and stiff form said differently.

Erm.

Never mind…

* * *

Rose and Scorpius left soon after, rushing back to work, but before they'd left, I'd noticed two things:

1. They were extremely angry with us for keeping secrets. (Hypocrites.)

2. Rose definitely had a baby bump. (I couldn't help but smile.)

After that, the Potter family owl successfully distracted me from a grumpy Al by swooping in, holding a reply from my boss. She said she understood my situation was regretful to see me go, but welcomed me back next summer.

I couldn't help but think: _what was happening next summer?_

Then I cleverly avoided Al by leaving with his cousins in the living room literally teasing him into oblivion. Instead, I went into the kitchen. I was starving. I didn't even remember the last time I ate – breakfast the day before? Shit – but who could eat, given the circumstances?

By that time, I was famished and didn't give a shit whether I felt at home in the Potter house. I took a bloody _oath_. Surely I was allowed to make a sandwich. I didn't know where Al was, but I was able to reach the fridge and the cupboards no problem, fixing myself that sandwich.

Of course, Fred had to steal the other half.

"Hey!" I said indignantly, watching him take a large bite. "I was going to eat that!"

He shrugged, munching happily. "You can make more."

"I've haven't eaten since… I don't remember," I said crossly. Who did he think he was, stealing my half of my sandwich when I hadn't eaten since the day before? I didn't even talk to him more than once! "Give me my sandwich back."

"Make another one." Fred grinned. "Make me a sandwich, bitch."

I snorted. "No bread left."

"Make something else."

"I don't know how."

"Aunt Ginny will teach you," he said, dismissing a subject with the wave of a hand. "She's brilliant. What else will you do within ten metres of Al all the time?"

I shrugged, chewing and swallowing. "I dunno."

"You'll get sick of him."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Maybe not, because you're in _luuuuurve_." He grinned comically and I groaned as he started singing. Honest-to-Merlin _singing._"Emily and Al, sitting in a tree, S-H-A-G-G-I-N-G – oh, wait," he said, breaking off in confusion. "That's too many letters."

My face was burning. I was hoping no one would mention that incident in the circle. "Shut up."

His eyes glinted anyway. "_Damn_, Emily. _Damn_, don't you want to shag him? In a tree?"

"Stop it, Fred."

"I mean, _damn –_"

He cut off, thankfully when the doorbell rang (and before Al could hear him). Molly went running to get the door. I finished the rest of my sandwich and moved towards the fridge – only to find I couldn't reach it.

Stupid bond spell.

"Dammit," I muttered. Fred laughed at my choice of words. I shot him the bird. "Could you get something for me from the fridge?"

"What's the magic world?"

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Fred!"

"Close, but no."

"Dad?"

"… what?"

"Wait…" I trailed off as the visitor came into the kitchen. He was limping a little, exhausted, but he was there. In the Potter's kitchen. Alive.

My dad was out of prison.

"Dad!" I cried happily, running to him. His head turned to the sound of my voice and broke into a wide smiled as I leapt to him, squishing him in a hug. I half-laughed, half-choked and half-laughed. I couldn't breathe.

My dad wasn't in prison. Not surrounded by Dementors. No death threats. He was okay.

Happy tears slipped down my face as he swayed me around. I peeked over his shoulder to see my mum standing behind him, looking as though her world had fallen apart and come back together. The kitchen was mostly quiet by now. The Potter-Weasley family was watching quietly, some smiling, some looking around awkwardly. I found Al. He was leaning against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets and face red. Our eyes locked, and something in them hardened.

He was still mad.

I looked back at my dad. Free.

It was worth it.

* * *

I could tell Al was just getting more and more pissed off throughout the day, but as usual, insisted on being either very grumpy/whiny and sarcastic or happy and carefree. It was like he had two set moods that he used and didn't let anyone else see that side I'd glimpsed only on occasion. That quiet, vulnerable one.

But I didn't want to just observe things about him; there's only so much you can see on the outside. I wanted him to tell me. To trust me.

Unfortunately, he wasn't about to anytime soon. I wasn't sure why he was so angry. He wasn't even there when I was talking to my parents – well, sort of. He was in the living room with Fred and James, who were taking time off work that day. He didn't even come out to say 'hello'.

Rude.

The rest of his family was helping, though. They seemed pretty happy to meet my parents; Lily told them that her parents would be home at four so they _had_to stay for lunch, which was a team effort made by Dom, Lily, Hugo, Molly, Louis and Roxanne. Granted, it was a little chaotic, but I appreciated the thought.

"I was released this morning," my dad said, taking a hearty helping of the soup they'd managed to burn to the bottom of the pot. "The minister's owl arrived to Azkaban at around ten o'clock. Went straight home, then came straight here."

I shook my head, unable to wipe the smile off my face. "I can't believe you're here. Out. For good."

"Well, I'm being tracked…" He gestured to the black band on his wrist. "They know where I am, at all times. But other than that…"

"You're back." I took more soup. I couldn't believe how hungry I was now that things were finally going right.

In most ways, anyway.

"Where's Albus?" my mum asked as though she read my thoughts. She glanced around. "We need to thank him."

"Absolutely," my father added. "Could we talk to him?"

I nodded and wandered out of the kitchen, ducking through people to find him. As I neared the living room, I could see James, Fred and Al sprawled out on the sofas, legs hanging off the ends. James was saying something I couldn't quite make out. I quickly hid behind the wall, hoping to eavesdrop.

"… probably get shitfaced on Friday."

"Can't make it until then," Fred groaned, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "It's been the stupidest week in the history of… weeks."

"Wow, that was clever."

"Shut it, Jamie." Fred yawned. "You don't even know. It's been hell. The only reason I was able to get away from the ministry is because it's absolute chaos and they didn't see a point of me staying. I didn't get anything done."

"You know, the sad part about all this is that it's Monday," Al remarked.

"Some of us work on weekends, Ally."

"I have a game this weekend," James said, his voice dripping in sarcastic excitement. "I mean, usually I'd be excited, but I'm bloody tired. I have a client who's literally taking up all my time."

"Then send them to someone else," Fred suggested.

"Can't, I was specifically requested by important people."

"That sounds awfully fancy for someone who's a part-time therapist."

"Shut it, Ally," James told him. I could hear Al sniggering. "Confidentiality is my thing. I don't tell my secrets to everyone I know."

"Neither do I!"

"No kidding," Fred replied earnestly. "Haven't told Emily anything and she _still _wants to shag you. And you won't. Nice." Al didn't say anything as James and Fred laughed.

I clutched my stomach, feeling sick. Merlin, was it wrong to have feelings for someone? I didn't really want to have sex with Al – I was definitely not ready for that – but I could see myself seriously wanting to. At some point.

You know, when _thinking _about it wasn't awkward.

But was that how they really thought of me? The incident in the circle was an _accident!_

"Guys, stop," Al mumbled, almost inaudibly. "It's not going to happen."

"Merlin knows you need it, though," James muttered.

"Sex therapy?" Fred suggested.

"But if they do it, it'll screw up their relationship."

"I'm not doing anything," Al said a little louder. "This is ending once and for all. I told you, this morning confirmed it. It's gone too far."

_This morning?_

I thought back to the conversations I had with Al in between sleeping.

What did I do that morning?

"For someone who doesn't tell his secrets, you certainly told everyone in our family," James said, still not taking his brother seriously. "Then again, it was probably because you drank so much that as soon as we got to Fred's, you threw up and passed out."

"All over my rug," Fred added, sounding miffed.

"First time drinking," Al mumbled. "I remember."

"I'm surprised."

Al sighed. "You guys didn't have to tell everyone in the family, though. It's like I go through a breakup and you're the commentators."

"Uh huh."

"Sounds about right."

"Were you two the ones who spread around that the marriage was fake?" Al asked.

"Yup."

"Yeppers."

There was a pause.

"So, you guys up for getting pissed this Friday?"

"Sure, Fredina."

"As long as I don't have to pick up the tab for you two," James replied. "It's Ally's turn."

Just as Al was answering 'fine', I chose to walk in the room, finally doing what my parents had asked. (They were probably wondering where I was by now.)

I felt self-conscious as I walked in; I didn't think I acted like a whore. Ever. I wanted more respect from James and Fred, and even though they were probably just kidding around, I felt… weird. Like I had to act for them.

… what was I thinking? Never mind. I didn't have to prove anything to them. They were like my older brothers (except Al, obviously). They were family. They were just teasing Al about not getting any. That's what boys did.

_So man up, Emily, _I told myself. Then thought again. _Erm, never mind. Respectable girl. That's it. Don't care what they think._

"Hi," I said nervously. Okay, even if I just gave myself a pep talk, I was still self-conscious.

Sue me.

"Hey, Emily," Fred said cheerfully, saluting playfully. He was probably just happy he didn't have to pay the tab on Friday. "How's your dad?"

"I think he's okay." I sat down on the vacant armchair. "I mean, he looks exhausted and hungry and a little shaken, but overall…" I shrugged and turned to Al. His hands were behind his head and his eyes were closed. "They want to talk to you, Al."

"Hmm?"

"They want to thank you."

"For what?"

"Don't be dense, Al," James said, rolling his eyes and putting his feet up on the glass table. "What're you doing Friday night, Emily?"

Al's eyes snapped open.

"Erm, I dunno," I said, pretending as though I hadn't heard their conversation for the past five minutes. "Hanging out here, I guess. Why?"

"Well, _Al's _hanging out with the big boys that night." I snorted. James ignored me. "Do you drink?"

I'd only tried it once. With Al. "A bit. Not really."

"Want to come to the pub with us?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I forgot you'd be coming," Al mumbled, closing his eyes again. He really was protective of this secret if he thought that he'd spill it with drinking. When I tried it, I didn't even think of how I could've told Al about David. "So much for getting pissed."

"We'll see about that," Fred muttered. I narrowed my eyes. He and James had exchanged identical smirks, glancing towards Al and I before leaning back in their respective couches, clearly plotting something mischievous.

That's when I realized it: James and Fred were working together. On my side.

And they had a plan.  
**  
*Quote from _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, _page 143.**


	30. Emily: The Teasing

**Chapter Thirty: Emily: The Teasing**

I'm not going to lie: at first, I was a little nervous about Al being so mad at me. You know how when someone you love and trust yells at you, you feel like a little piece in you just kind of aches? A lot? Some people call it heartbreak? Well, I was afraid of that. It hurt when he brushed me off. It would hurt anyone.

He was great with my parents, though. Smiled and shook my father's hand and didn't even cringe when they both hugged and thanked him just about a thousand times. A little twitchy, trying to act calm but overall, Al was charming enough.

Thank Merlin. I really wanted my parents to like him. Sure, the whole thing was fake, blah blah blah, but I didn't think I could ever stand it if they weren't okay with who I fell in love with. Of course I'd still be in love with him, but things would be much easier. My parents were smart about these things. I trusted them with everything.

Thankfully, that wasn't a problem. I hoped. They might've been blinded by Al's sacrifice (and mine, but I guess everyone just _oh so conveniently _forgot about that part) into thinking he was an angel, but I wasn't complaining. I couldn't stop smiling. Al just looked uncomfortable and nervous.

The cousins left eventually, one by one; apparently, they did this nearly every day. It was rare that they all came at the same time – that day was an exception, or what they called a "family emergency" – but usually, there were at least a few cousins dropping by to lounge about. The Potter home was apparently the centre of everyone's homes (and the biggest), so they went there to lounge about and steal food.

I was so jealous of Al's family.

As an only child, I was particularly close to my parents and Scorpius was like my brother. Our fathers were best friends but our mothers didn't exactly get along. Not enough in common, I think. Luckily, they were able to make enough small talk about how they wished Scorpius and I would marry once we grew up.

(Fat chance of that. I don't understand how anyone marries the person they watched go through puberty.)

I've always wanted a big family that I could depend on. I wasn't particularly close to Scorpius' family as I was to him, and I don't know why anyone would ever call some of those gold-digging-bitter pure bloods _family_. No, I wanted the jokes and hugs and kisses and love. The way it surrounded us, in the centre of that stupid circle… it made my heart hurt.

Oh Merlin, I was going so soft.

Does love do that to everyone?

But that's the thing: when you marry, you're supposed to be part of their family, not just connected to them. That's why it's such a bigger step than dating. That's why you invite everyone you love. That's why most people don't choose to elope, however romantic it is. You want your family to be a part of one of the best days of your life. A part of your life.

I wasn't sure if I would have that chance.

In some strange, bizarre way, I felt I was slowly inching my way into the Potter family. After all, I lived there. I slept there. I ate there (sort of). I'd laughed and cried and shouted and stolen from the fridge and taken an oath. I was getting there, wasn't I? That's why it felt so natural sitting at the dinner table with the Potters.

What did feel odd was the fact that my parents were there.

But I couldn't be happier that they were.

"This is delicious," my mother complimented, nodding towards Mrs. Potter with a smile. We were seated around the extended table, last-minute spaghetti and meatballs and salad in the middle. "The sauce is a family recipe?"

Ooh, formal. Awkward.

"It is, thank you," Mrs. Potter replied, practically beaming across the table.

"Emily here doesn't know how to cook," Mum teased, pointing her fork teasingly at me. I blushed furiously as everyone began to laugh.

I mean, seriously? First the shagging thing and then _this_.

Was it Pick On Emily Day?

"I'll teach her," Mrs. Potter assured. She flashed me her award-winning smile. "She can't be worse than Al."

"She is," Al interjected, keeping his eyes down. I could see him smirking. I scowled.

It was _definitely _Pick On Emily Day.

"At least what I made was half-edible," I muttered.

"Says who?" he hissed back.

"You, a month ago."

"I'm not accountable for whatever I said last month."

"Why not?"

"I was suffering a case of deliria."

"_Was_?"

"Was. And then you caught it."

I narrowed my eyes. _I think that's what they call the love bug, my friend._

Before I could retort, the side of the table that was actually carrying on the conversation burst into laughter. Al and I started with a jump when we realized everyone was looking at us. I momentarily panicked; had they heard our conversation?

As if turned out, they were laughing at us for an entirely different reason.

Me.

For the record, I do _not _think telling the Potter family about my three-year-old screw ups is funny. It serves for blackmail material from Al. Or maybe even James, but he's on my side. I think. Either way, it's downright embarrassing and makes my face go red in a way that's really not attractive.

Anyone mind telling this to my dad?

I sat through the torture as we ate our spaghetti. I kicked Al a couple of times, but it didn't stop him from shaking in laughter. I bet he didn't even feel bad about it. Stupid, stupid Al. Not to mention the rest of the table.

This continued on for ages. I swear. It just got to the point where my parents decided to re-account every single embarrassing moment of my life. I sat there, shifting around the leftover sauce (I was hungry. I finished my food), waiting for them to switch to another topic. It took a very long time. I wasn't sure if it was fifteen minutes or fifteen hours. It certainly _felt _like the latter.

At some point, Al nudged my knee. I looked up.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

I wasn't _upset…_okay, maybe a bit. I shrugged. "I suppose. It's getting a little annoying."

"It's not so bad," he reasoned. "They're just teasing."

"It passed teasing a while ago."

"They mean well."

I shut my eyes. "I don't do well with teasing."

He squeezed my knee so fast I wasn't even sure it happened, but it was reassuring all the same. Al cleared his throat loudly, his voice cutting through the rambunctious laughter. "Mum, could you please pass the pitcher of water?"

"Of course, Al," she said with a chuckle.

And sure enough, they'd switched to a new topic.

Incredible.

I thanked Al gratefully and was finally able to tune out as I ate the salad, munching quietly. He nudged my knee again and I looked up; our parents had stopped laughing and talking, straightening in their seats and looking sternly at us. I did the same, feeling nerves coil in my stomach.

I sensed a lecture coming on.

"So, Emily," my mother began. My eyes snapped to her. She looked weary and tired, as though she really didn't want to do this. "It's come to my attention that you and Albus haven't exactly been telling us the truth lately."

"Erm, not exactly," I said, sounding properly ashamed.

(I may or may not have been ashamed as I let on.)

(Please don't tell my mother.)

Mr. Potter didn't seem mad, but thoughtful. Something in my chest loosened. "We have bits and pieces of the story, don't we?"

"We knew that Rose was pregnant," Mrs. Potter put in. "Just the way she was behaving… it was obvious. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron allowed it because they knew Rose and Scorpius were in love and had planned to move in together, either way. Speaking of which…"

"Your living arrangements," Mum interjected. "You sold the house, correct?"

My father, poor guy, was surprised. "They did?"

"Yes, they did," Mr. Potter said. "They couldn't afford it after all. That's why Emily and Al were living there, and now they've moved here."

"I was going to arrange your separate beds," Mum muttered. I resisted the urge to laugh. Typical Mum, worrying about her little girl being safe before looking at the big picture: I wouldn't have sex for a long time. I wouldn't do anything I wasn't ready for.

Silly Mum.

"Wait, so you knew about them selling the house?" asked Al, interrupting my thoughts. He sounded as though he was trying to hold back outrage. I didn't blame him; he must've been the last to know. Mrs. Potter seemed to sense that.

"Before you jump to conclusions, Al, they actually told us when they asked if you could live here in case you couldn't find a place to go," she said fiercely. "They told us they needed help, unlike the two of you. Why did you hide your marriage?"

"I – well…" I stumbled and glanced at Al, actually stumped on this one.

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "I think it was because…" He scratched the back of his neck. "We thought you wouldn't let us. I knew that the marriage thing would work, but I thought you'd try to find a different way."

Oh yeah. That _was _the reason.

Whoops.

My father closed his eyes and rubbed them. "Teenagers. They never approach their parents for help until they have no other choice."

… _what_?

"I think what he means," Mum said, her lips twitching in a smile, "that you don't know that we would've helped you. We would've listened."

I pressed my lips in a thin line, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really, Emily." She reached across the table for my hand. "You may be of age, but you haven't grown up. You can still ask for help. You're not alone."

_Alone._

That's what I felt as though it was. Just Al and I: the only ones in the world.

It didn't have to be like that anymore, did it?

"No more hiding secrets," my father announced, as if simply declaring so would do the trick. "Okay?"

"Emily told us the marriage was fake the day before yesterday," Mrs. Potter told my parents.

"Without asking me," Al muttered. I kicked him.

"But you knew that, didn't you?" I asked, ignoring Al cursing under his breath. "You've known for two months. Since June."

The parents nodded.

"Why'd you let us, then?" Al sat up in his chair. It seemed that he was finally into the conversation – now that it involved him. Of course. "Why did you let us marry? You found out as soon as we told our story, and you still let us go through with it."

They glanced at each other. James and Lily were wide-eyed, not daring to breathe – the mystery finally so close to being answered. Mr. Potter cleared his throat.

"As you've probably guessed," he said quietly, "I've lost my influence on the ministry. They sacked me. I saw it coming since May, and when you, Al –" he addressed him specifically, " – told us that you were going to marry Emily, I knew it was because you wanted to save her family. Her."

"But –"

"And the strangest part," he continued, cutting Al off, "was that it would work."

I was stunned. I couldn't form words. I could barely comprehend what he was saying. Al's father was Harry Potter. The man who defeated the darkest wizard of his age at seventeen. The man who single-handedly made a statement about muggle-borns. The man responsible for the rebuilding of our society.

Despite that, it seemed that even Harry Potter – a _hero_– couldn't stop the ministry from killing my family.

There was a thudding silence after his words. My mum was biting her lip. My dad was staring at the tablecloth. James and Lily were exchanging glances, silently communicating. Mr. Potter was taking turns to look at all of us, as if he'd understand what we were thinking by our faces. Al was restless, looking as though he wanted to stay and demand what was going on and run away all at once.

In the end, he chose the latter.

"Loo, excuse me," he stammered. He sprung up and grabbed my wrist to pull me towards the bathroom in the hallway.

Real mature, Al.

* * *

This was going to be my life. I'd bet you anything. Waiting for Al to be finished doing whatever he was doing in the loo, sitting on the cold, granite floor with my arms and legs crossed and my foot tapping. This was my future.

Thank Merlin he was using the downstairs bathroom; it was small enough that I could actually sit _outside _the bathroom instead of in it.

Yes, we had discovered the upstairs bathroom was too big for one of us to sit outside.

We hadn't even showered today.

I groaned and leaned my head against the door, closing my eyes. I think Al was just calming down and needed a moment to himself, taking a little longer in the bathroom than normal. I needed it too, but at this point, I just felt sleepy and wanted to not be wearing the same clothes I'd been wearing for the past couple of days.

So. _Disgusting._

I didn't care if my mum needed to check that there were two beds in Al's bedroom. I needed to go back home – or to the house we were moving out of – and get some clothes. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Something. I have hygienic needs, you know.

"Emily?"

My head snapped up, surprised to hear Dom's voice. Apparently she'd snuck through the front door at some point; she was staring at me, giving me a look as she neared me. "What are you doing sitting out in the hall?"

"Al's in the bathroom," I explained, attempting a smile. I failed.

She grinned at my effort and plopped down in front of me. "Taking a while?"

"I think he's just thinking about some stuff."

"I see." She paused. "Actually, I don't see. And I don't want to." I laughed and spread out my legs, curling them away from Dom.

"What are you doing back here?"

"Dad caught me snogging Lysander a couple of minutes ago," she said carelessly, shrugging. "Thought I should probably head out while he cools off. You know Dad has wolfish tendencies?"

"He does?"

"Yeah, he got scratched by a werewolf. Fenrir Greyback."

"I've heard of him," I acknowledged, but couldn't remember where. "Scratched, not bitten. Interesting. I didn't know that would do much."

"He loves his meat."

"I'll bet." I sighed and leant back again. "I need a shower."

"Take one."

"Don't know how that'll work out," I said, looking at her mournfully. What? I took my shower time seriously, people. "One of us can't sit outside the loo while the other one showers. It's too big."

Dom snorted. "The Potters love their big bathrooms, I suppose."

"Unfortunately," I said gloomily.

"Unfortunately?"

I opened one eye, peeking at her. "Um, yes?"

Dom looked as though she had just experienced the greatest epiphany of her life. She was practically glowing. "Didn't you say that Al wasn't so open to the idea of a relationship with you?"

"I suppose I did at some point." I frowned. "It's not for lack of trying. He fancies me. I don't know what's going on with him."

"I do." I perked up until she shook her head with a sad smile. I slumped against the door again. "Sorry Em, I can't tell you that. Family rules."

"Technically, I'm part of this family."

"Only technically." My heart sunk slightly and she patted my shin. "It's okay. I think most of us like you. I mean, you obviously really lo –" She lowered her voice considerably as my eyes widened. "Love him. So you'll be one of us in no time."

I smiled. "Okay."

We heard the toilet flush.

"All I'm saying," she said urgently, still whispering, "is that you shouldn't give up yet. He has to be in the bathroom while you're showering? You're sleeping in the same room?"

"We've always slept in the same bed," I told her, enjoying how her eyes widened from the gossip. I could hear the water running. "Where are you going with this?"

"Come on," she whispered, rolling her eyes. "You've got the best opportunity to seduce him. He can't even get away from you. I thought you wanted to shag him."

I bit my lip, taking in her words. I could hear the water running. "I tried that before… and I don't want to _shag _him, that was a mistake –"

"Fine, fine," she said quickly. Al would be out any second. "But where the hell is your Slytherin, girl?"

The doorknob turned and Dom jumped up, winking and waving goodbye before disappearing towards the foyer. I turned and lifted myself off the floor as Al got out of the loo, wearing an apologetic expression.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Just thinking. Stalling a bit."

"Want to stall some more?" He tilted his head questioningly. "Come with me to get our clothes. I need to shower."

"Oh, sure." He lead the way that Dom had just taken moments before. "There is no way I'm going back in there."

"Good," I said, relieved. "I swear it's Pick On Emily Day."

He threw his head back and laughed. I really missed that.

* * *

I'll admit it: I chickened out.

I didn't lose my Slytherin-ness (is that a valid term?). Really. I was just a little uneasy with the idea of seducing Al. It's perfectly normal to be afraid of rejection. I didn't really want to deal with that again. It hurt.

So I didn't join the two beds that our parents had put in Al's bedroom. I didn't strip in front of him or anything equally and terrifyingly degrading. Both of us made sure our eyes were kept firmly shut in leaving and entering the shower. I think things were more honest this way. I preferred it this way.

That is, until that stupid owl came a few days later.

Things had been relatively slow. My parents came over for dinner again and Al's family was also invited once. They seemed to really be getting along. Al and I had gone running together a few times, and it was awkward and weird… but oddly enough, it sort of brought us closer together. Even though we didn't say anything. Al would work for most of the day and finish his work while I read my school textbooks and worked on my general nerdiness. I talked to James and Lily a lot. It was almost normal, actually.

Except for the whole stay-within-ten-metres-at-all-times thing. But for the most part, I think, we were doing okay.

I mean, we hadn't killed each other.

That was always a positive sign.

I was just lounging on my bed and reading while Al sat at his desk, typing away at some muggle contraption called a computer. I didn't really understand what it was, but Al basically used it to type, so I just stopped asking at some point. I was surprised when he suddenly got up, pushed his chair back, ran up to his bed and jumped into it.

I laughed lightly. "Tired, Al?"

"A little." His voice came out muffled as he buried his face further into his pillow. "Finally done."

"I didn't think writing about the ministry would be so difficult."

"It is," he told me, emerging as he flipped around. I closed my book to look at him. He really did look exhausted. "It's confusing as hell. They never give you enough information because they want it to seem like what they're doing is right. They want to shine light on all the crap they've been doing."

"_The Daily Prophet _does have a reputation of being influenced."

"You can say that again," he groaned. "Sometimes it's not even a story. It's propaganda."

"That really sucks, Al." I paused. "What did you just write about?"

He exhaled loudly. I watched unabashedly as his chest moved up and down. "The minister wrote a book."

"_What_?"

"I'm not kidding!" he exclaimed, propping himself up on his elbow and facing me. "At least, he _say s_he wrote it. He could've gotten someone else to write the actual words. It's basically three hundred pages of bullshit, expressing his views and the good he's done for society."

I couldn't form words.

Luckily, Al seemed to know what was going on through my mind. He sat up, putting his face in his hands. "I don't know how you can stand what I'm writing for them after what they put you through. I have to make them look good. Whenever I tell them I'm not okay with writing it, they threaten my job."

"I'm honestly fine with it," I told him. It was the truth. I knew that sometimes, you had to work for the worst of people before you could move up in the world. If he stuck with it, he would move higher in position and they wouldn't be able to push him around. "Really, Al. Do what you have to do."

"I hate it," he said quietly, voice breaking. "I hate it so much, Emily."

This was one of those times that I loved: when I heard him speak so passionately about something. I didn't love how upset he was, but just hearing him talk about what he really cared about – and knowing how selfless it was when it wasn't himself – was incredible.

Like he trusted me, even a little.

I wasn't sure if he did. I'm sure he did to an extent, but it was usually as though I was pushing him to tell me little things about himself. He was still acting strangely in those past few days, trying to push me away. He hadn't kissed me, but things like _this _would happen and it'd give me hope.

Al still looked upset, so I climbed off my bed and onto his. His eyes were closed and he didn't say a word as I took his hands from his eyes and wrapped my arms around him. I thought he was going to throw a hissy fit, but instead, he relaxed. I kissed his forehead.

"It'll be okay," I said quietly. "I promise. Things always seem like they're the end of the world, and then something happens to turn it all around."

"Sure, Emily."

I leant back. "You know what your problem is?"

"What?"

"You're being a grumpy little git," I teased, sparking a smile from him.

"A grumpy little git, huh?"

"Yeah. You were the one who was so optimistic about everything. It pissed me off every time you said everything was going to be okay."

"Oh…" He thought back. "Right. I was."

"Bring some of that back, will you?"

"Will do," he said softly. I kissed his nose. It wrinkled adorably.

He suddenly jolted back to reality and pushed me off of him. My smile fell as I landed gently on his bed, searching his eyes. They were guilty, but firm. I sighed.

What, does he have a button on his nose that sends a signal to his brain? It probably said, "GIRL KISSED NOSE SHE MUST BE CLOSE ABORT ABORT ABORT."

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"That keeps happening," he mumbled, surprising me. He pressed his lips together, thinking hard. He continued, muttering incoherent phrases under his breath. "You have to stop… I have to stop letting you…"

"Erm, Al?"

He straightened up. "You know what we need?"

"What?"

"Rules. Like…" He reached to the nightstand between our beds and grabbed the ministry letter that had arrived a couple of days ago. "… like this. Except for us." I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. "I think this is a good place to start."

I stared at the eager in his eyes, shining its bright green. I took the letter and scanned it over again. "Al, this letter pretty much tells us what not to do so we don't, you know, _die. _Like floo or apparate separately."

"Yeah, they're rules!" he exclaimed, plucking it from my hands. "We can add to this. Make up our own rules so we stop screwing up."

"You mean define them?" He nodded. I bit my lip, eyebrows scrunching together as I took the letter yet again. They were listed, clear and straightforward. I looked back up at him. "How?"

"Well, what do we want?" he asked, fishing a quill and ink bottle from the stand.

"I dunno." It was more what _he _wanted.

He sat down on the bed and took the parchment, flipped it over so it was resting it on knee and unscrewed the bottle. I held it for him. He began by writing "1," at the top of the page.

"You're left-handed," I noticed quietly. He ignored me.

"Number one: no touching," he muttered as he wrote it down. He looked up. "That means no hugging or kissing."

I rolled my eyes. Anyone else see that one coming?

"Number two: no flirting." I snorted. He glanced up irritably. "Oi, that one is valid."

"I didn't say anything."

He didn't answer, already beginning to write the next one. "Number three…" He paused, frowning a little. "What's number three?"

"I dunno, I don't even agree to the first two rules," I said irritably, uncrossing my legs and stretching them. "Do I not get a say in this?"

"You can add your own rules," he offered.

"I don't know any like those I'd want you to follow," I mumbled, lying back and pressing my face against his pillow. It smelled like him. Merlin.

He sighed and lay down, facing me. I felt a soft poke on my arm.

"Violating rule number one," I muttered.

"What's it going to take for you to follow the rules?" he asked gently. I turned my head and observed him; he looked weary and tired but above all, desperate. Like this was actually important to him, and he would follow them.

"Rule number three." I reached for the parchment and quill, placing it on the pillow and began scratching away. "Al can't be resentful or grumpy. He can't be a git to me."

"Hey, I'm not –"

"You _are_," I interrupted insistently. "Whenever this thing comes up – this thing you can't even tell me about – you act like the world's going to end and like I don't deserve knowing about something that affects me. Like I'm this itch on your back you can't wait to get rid of."

"But –"

"Don't deny it." I finished writing but didn't look at him. "I doubt you ever stopped to think that it could actually hurt."

He sat up, unable to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, Emily. I didn't mean to."

I cleared my throat. "Rule number four," I said shakily. "Al goes back to normal."

"Normal?"

"You don't act like – like _you _anymore," I clarified. He still wouldn't meet my eyes. "You're so quiet. You're upset half the time. It's like you're carrying weights and you just can't put them down."

"But – but I –" Al seemed to be at a loss for words. He attempted to regain composure. "Then what do you see me as?"

"I dunno." I thought back to what James said. "Someone who's carefree – or acts like it, anyway. Always making jokes. Sarcastic but also caring and knows a lot of random facts from writing for a newspaper. Someone who loves telling me all these random facts."

(It had been a bit lonely these past few days.)

He fidgeted. "Am I really that different?"

"Yeah." He really, _really_ was. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "I'm not asking you to be someone else," I told him. "Just you. Just be yourself, be –" _the person I fell in love with._

There was a long silence. I could tell Al was thinking about it, how to approach it properly so that he wouldn't hurt me. I didn't want him to treat me like glass, but I didn't want him to think I was incapable of feeling heartbreak. Even if I didn't show it, it still felt like something striking your chest.

I suddenly had an idea. But would it work?

"Rule number five," I said softly, taking the parchment and dipping my quill in ink. "If we can't be together, we can be friends. And do friendly things, like play games and laugh." I looked back up nervously. "And talk."

Al finally met my gaze, smiling. "I can do that."


	31. Emily: The Secret

**Chapter Thirty-One: Emily: The Secret**

I woke on Friday morning feeling like a zombie.

I wasn't sure why; I'd gotten enough sleep and food and all. I didn't wear myself out studying. My run was pretty short. Al and I went out for dinner last night and took a really long detour in the neighbourhood getting back home. Just walking and talking.

I smiled as I stretched within the warm sheets of my bed. That part was nice. _Really _nice.

Still, my head felt heavy as I got up and dragged Al out of bed, making our way to the bathroom. Al leant against the wall, still half-asleep as I brushed my teeth. Maybe he felt like a zombie, too. I squeezed some toothpaste on his toothbrush and stuck it in his mouth.

He jumped in surprise.

Hmm. I didn't know could do that.

"What the hell?" he asked, voice coming out muffled. I caught the toothbrush before it fell out of his mouth and grinned at him.

"Good morning."

"Hell no," he groaned, taking the toothbrush from me and closing his eyes. "I'm going back to sleep."

"I'm hungry."

"You can wait."

I spit out some toothpaste in outrage. "Al, that's not fair, I need to eat."

"I need to sleep," he grumbled, but he was brushing, so I couldn't be sure if that's exactly what he said. He was known for quite the potty mouth in the morning.

"Did you sleep much last night?"

"Not really."

"Do you ever get much sleep?"

"Used to," he mumbled around his brush, muttering something else that sounded suspiciously like, "_before you came along_." He dodged around me and spit. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"Need to take a piss."

"Crude," I muttered as he pushed past me to the back of the bathroom. So convenient, the bathroom was; the toilet and shower were as far as possible from the door, so I couldn't go outside. I turned around, beginning to brush again. "What's your favourite colour? Blue?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Your toothbrush is blue."

"Yours is purple."

"My favourite colour is blue," I told him, trying to ignore the sound of his pee hitting the toilet bowl. "Actually, for a while it was yellow, but I decided I liked the sky better than a colour that reminds me of bananas."

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind _not _talking while I'm going?"

I raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn't see it. Toothpaste was filling my mouth and I don't think my words were very clear. Besides, I wouldn't talk if I wasn't trying to ignore his blatant nakedness. "Why, does it bother you?"

"Yes." He flushed the toilet and I waited to turn back around until he came back to the sink to wash his hands. "Just because girls can talk while they're doing their business, doesn't mean blokes will."

I rolled my eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"What was that?" he asked, mocking the way my words caught in my mouth. "I'm attractive?" I gave him a look before I spit. He grinned cheekily. "Really, Emily. It's okay to admit it."

I rinsed my mouth, trying not to smirk. "Okay."

"Okay, what?" he egged on. I shrugged at him.

"I'll admit it," I said softly, approaching him and locking my gaze on him. His eyes widened this tiniest bit when he realized the tables had turned. He stumbled away from me until his back hit the door. "I'm not afraid to."

He tried to regain control – and I wasn't so willing to relinquish my hold. "Afraid to what?" he asked, voice shaky.

"To say what I think." I held my fingers close to the skin on the side of his neck – barely brushing, but not really. Not breaking the rules. I knew it was a joke. Did he? I stood on my toes and stared straight into his eyes, unblinking and steady. "You are."

I noticed he wasn't breathing. "I'm what?"

I leaned closer. "Very attractive."

He shuddered as my breath ghosted over his skin and scrambled to reach behind him. He grasped the doorknob and slipped away from me, opening the door and going as far away from me as he could.

I giggled as his back hit the railing of the staircase. "You're so easy."

"_What_?"

"To bother," I clarified hastily, following him down the steps. "I ask you a simple question and it pisses you off. I agree with you and your eyes practically pop out of their sockets."

"We said no flirting!"

"You started that one," I pointed out, full-out smirking now. He scratched the back of his neck guilty as we reached the landing. I was practically skipping into the kitchen. "You can't blame me for agreeing."

Al cursed under his breath.

"Whoa, language in the morning!" I looked up to see James at the dining table. He picked up his empty bowl of cereal and headed towards the sink. "Don't let mum hear you saying that."

"Like she's ever around," Al mumbled, then narrowed his eyes. "Hypocrite."

"Fuck you," James responded cheerfully. He plucked an apple from the fruit basket on the counter. "I'm off to practice. I'll probably see you at the club tonight."

"Wait – club?" I asked as Al opened the cupboard where the cereal was. "I thought you said pub."

James shrugged, taking a bite of his apple. "I lied."

"_What_?"

"He probably didn't want to freak you out," Al said in a bored voice, slipping back into his sleepy state as he poured his cereal in a bowl. Chocolate puffs. Typical. "You haven't been to one, have you?"

"I – no," I admitted. They had a point, I supposed – but it was only because I was friendless for the last two years. It wasn't as though I was scared of going. Don't be ridiculous. "You could've told me. I wouldn't have freaked out."

"Yeah?" James asked, finishing off his apple. "What're you wearing?"

I blinked.

Shit.

He laughed and swung his rucksack over his shoulders. "Don't worry, I'm sure Rose or Dom can lend you some pointers."

"Rose isn't talking to us."

"She's actually not talking to _you_, Al," I corrected absent-mindedly, going through the clothes I owned in my head. Damn, how did James know that was enough to freak me out? I turned to him again. "Wait, so were you going to just let me believe we were going to pub until we got there?"

"Al was supposed to tell you."

"We never agreed to that!" Al interjected crossly.

"Either way," James continued, as if he hadn't heard him, "it's not a big deal. It's for people our age. I'm sure Rose, Dom and Scorpius are coming too. Fred's coming. Hogwarts students go all the time. It's a pretty small place. No big deal."

No big deal? _No big deal?_

I sighed as he flounced off, whistling as the front door shut. I joined Al at the table, sitting beside him and resting my head on his shoulder.

"Oi, no touching," he reminded me.

"Bloody hell," I groaned, moving away. "I should've just hugged James."

"Don't you dare."

"What do you care?"

"The same rules apply to my male cousins." He paused. "So hands off."

I groaned again, burying my head in my own arms.

When I peeked up at him, he was taking another empty bowl beside him and pouring a bowl of cereal for me, pushing it towards me. "Really, Em. Don't worry about it. I've been there loads of times since I was sixteen, and it's pretty tame."

I bit my lip and ignored the bowl in front of me. "Have you been to a real club?"

"Yeah," he confessed. "Fred took me. He's a few years older and got me in."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. His face turned red. "Milk?"

"Sure." I figured he'd tell me later. That, or I'd get the answer out of him when I wasn't so exhausted. I took the carton and poured milk in my bowl as he pulled the _Daily Prophet _towards him. "James is right, though. I don't know what to wear."

"You'll be fine."

I grinned. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?" he asked.

"You're going shopping with me."

I don't think I'd ever seen Al so pale before.

* * *

Around lunchtime, the house was full of various cousins again – but mostly the ones on the younger side. Louis was lying across the breakfast bar, reading some book. Molly and Lily were sitting on the floor; Molly was braiding Lily's hair as she talked animatedly about something. Roxanne was also spread out on the floor, playing some sort of game with marbles. Luke and Lucy were playing tag somewhere in the house.

Dom was also there. She got a little _too _excited when I asked for help shopping. She did that weird thing when her whole face lifted as though all her dreams were coming true and immediately began to bustle around, looking for magazines and other girly shit that I hadn't touched since fifth year.

Well, I was _sort of _into the whole reading magazines and doing makeup. At home.

When I'm alone in my bathroom and no one was going to see.

I had a reputation, you know. Not to mention I had no place to use my mediocre makeup skills. When I said I was friendless, I _meant _it. I only hung out with Slytherin girls, and probably due to my bullying in my younger years, that's all who would hang out with me, anyway. Then they dumped me, so I had Scorpius.

Did you really think that Scorpius would do girly stuff with me? Merlin, I think he would've died of shock if I asked him to stay in the same room while I so much as painted my nails. You know, when I used to do that stuff.

Over the years, the need to keep up with all that girly crap just sort of faded away. I still wore form-fitting clothes and all that, but I couldn't care less if I went around without makeup. I didn't feel the need to be fancy – I mean, it wasn't as if anyone had asked me out or anything. No one was going to go with me to a club. What was the point?

Wow. I really had no life.

So I guess it was a good thing that Dom was helping.

"Really, Dom," I tried telling her as she flipped through the first one, "I just need one dress. I just wanted some advice to what kind."

"Why don't we go shopping now, then?" she suggested.

"Working," Al interrupted, voice monotone. He was working at the table beside me, his hand against his face and making funny facial expressions while he wrote. I had to distract myself earlier by cracking open the windows and screen door.

He's. Just. So. _Cute._

"I'm sure he'll stretch it out as long as he can," I told her, laughing. He grunted in agreement. Dom looked outraged.

"You're taking a break," she insisted, snatching his notebook away from him.

"Hey!"

She sent an evil grin in Al's direction before hiding the notebook in the pile of magazines. I watched as she pointed to a model prancing along the page, wearing a tight, sparkly red dress. "I wore this last time, you can borrow it. I'm not sure if we're the same shoe size, do you have heels?"

I began to stammer.

I was _not _used to wearing dresses that short.

Al glanced at the picture, rolled his eyes and got up to look for his notebook. "Dom, find her a prude dress."

"Oi!"

"She's not a prude, Al," she said absent-mindedly, flipping through some more. I felt a rush of gratitude towards her. "You don't have to wear a dress. You can wear a skirt and a bandeau under a black lace shirt…"

I blinked. "A _what_?"

"This." She shoved the magazine under my nose, directing me towards a skinny model wearing a skirt that wrapped tightly around her waist and stopped a short way down her thigh. I found myself staring at the top; it was see-through with black material covering her chest.

There was no way I was wearing that.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Can't." I wasn't about to explain my bruises, which Al wouldn't let me hide. We'd be there all day. I pushed the magazine back towards her. "Something that's not transparent."

"Shirt or the skirt?"

"Neither," Al interjected, still searching for his notebook. "Dammit, Dom…"

"What size shoe are you?" Dom asked, ignoring Al.

"Eight."

"I'm a six," she said wistfully, slapping Al's hands away and rooting for another magazine. "You said you had heels, though, right?"

"Yeah, but –"

"Oh, what about this?" She pointed to a model wearing a white tank top, tiny shorts shoved up to her waist, fishnets and heels. I snorted.

"Ah ha!" Al proclaimed, brandishing his notebook.

"This one?" Dom asked excitedly, ignoring him.

"Absolutely not," I said, grabbing a magazine and looking through it myself. Bloody hell, why were all those models so skinny? "Al, what's a prude dress?"

"Something you would wear."

I sighed in resignation. "Find one, then," I told Dom. "Just a dress and shoes?"

She stared at me, blue eyes widening. I leaned away from her; she looked as though she was seeing a whole new side of me. Maybe she was. Even though she was probably all for giving me a makeover, she probably hadn't realized how bad it was. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Uhh…"

"What about makeup?" she exclaimed, listing off her fingers. "Necklace? Earrings? Accessories? Eyelashes?"

"_Eyelashes?"_

"Shut up, Al," she snapped, jerking out of her seat and grabbing my arm. "Stop working. We're going shopping."

"No," he dismissed, going back to his work. "Not until I'm done."

"When will you be done?"

"Tomorrow."

"Al –" She grabbed his notebook again. "You're not even doing work! You're doodling!"

He snatched it back. "I have writer's block."

"Bullshit, you're done working!" Dom stole it back and waved it out of reach, jumping away from him. "Come and get it, Al."

I giggled as she wove her way through the kitchen, dodging her cousins seated everywhere and making it into the foyer. Al stumbled forward, stopping when I didn't move. He whipped around, shooting me an expression that was reserved for begging. Grovelling, really.

I WANTED HIM TO GROVEL.

(What? It'd be hilarious!)

I crossed my arms, smirking at him. "Nope."

"Come on Emily, let me get my book," he begged, unable to move forwards. He lurched toward me as I took a step back – and wow, that took a lot more effort than I thought it would.

"I'm not moving."

"So?" he asked, trying to gain the upper hand. Ha. Cute. "I can move you, I just don't want to you to be dragging on the floor."

"Al, you're scrawny."

"Bloody hell, come on Emily!" he shouted, glancing over his shoulder. Dom was taking her sweet time putting her shoes on and twirling her wand in her hand, waving the notebook around tauntingly. He tried to move back and pull me along, but only managed to shove me forwards a little.

"You might as well just give in."

He stopped trying to move, shooting me that adorable vulnerable look. DAMMIT. "Please?"

I shook my head. "Only if you let me go shopping. One hour. Come on."

"Just an hour?" I nodded. He sighed and moved back towards me, glancing back at Dom one last time. She vanished with a loud _crack._"Diagon Alley?"

I took his hand and turned on the spot, disappearing into thin air.

* * *

"When will this _end_?"

"These shoes don't go with the dress. Maybe these earrings?"

"I think I'm losing a brain cell a minute. Or maybe a second."

"Or maybe this shirt with these shorts?"

"I'm pretty sure one hour ended an hour and a half ago."

Dom looked frustrated as I tuned into Al's moaning, giggling. What? It was funny! As an attempt to grab my attention, she took the outfit she saw and threw it at me.

"Go on, try this," she demanded before stalking out of the change rooms and back into the store. Probably looking for more clothes.

"Great!" Al exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. "Let's leave."

"Not yet."

"Come on, you said one hour and it's been nearly _three _–" He cut off as I stalked into a stall and shut the door in his face. This was a pretty fancy change room; there were stalls lining the walls and couches and magazines in the middle. Mirrors (some talked, as I found out) were stuck to the doors of the stalls. As I changed, I could hear Al stomping back to the couches. "Emily, this isn't fair."

"Think of it as payback," I called, grinning.

"That's cruel."

"You're cruel."

"How many times do I have to apologize for that?" he asked desperately. He was probably pulling his hair in frustration. "I think sitting in a change room watching you put on slutty outfits for three hours should be enough."

"Two and a half hours," I countered, pulling on the skirt. "I've almost forgiven you."

"Bloody hell."

"If Dom actually got me an outfit that wasn't so short, I might actually be done right now," I pointed out as I pulled on the shirt. I tugged it downwards, only to discover it didn't exactly go past my abdomen, thus exposing my stomach.

Shit.

So much for the whole "no see-through material" rule.

"Al?" I called quietly, "is Dom back?"

"What? No."

"Can you hand me another shirt?"

"Which one?"

"Any."

"Uhh…" I heard him get up from the couch and rifle through the pile of clothes I'd already tried on. "There aren't many shirts in here, Em."

"What? No, there's got to be one," I dismissed.

"Not really."

"Just give me my clothes that I came in here with, then."

There was a pause. "Which ones were those?"

"Al!"

"My brain's fried!" he protested. "Just come out, no one's here and she's not back yet."

I bit my lip nervously and came out, keeping my head ducked low as I rummaged through the pile of clothing for my own clothes. That didn't exactly stop Al from making a remark, unfortunately.

"You probably shouldn't wear that."

Way to go, Captain Obvious.

I found my green t-shirt I'd worn that day and pulled it on. "Maybe I should just hide my bruises," I said, avoiding his eyes. I was so glad no one else was in the change room. "Just for today."

"No," he insisted immediately. He didn't even consider it. "That looked horrid on you, by the way."

"Thanks, Al," I said, rolling my eyes. He sank back on the couch, stretching out and resting his head on one of the plush pillows. How I wanted so badly to be him. Really. He didn't have to do any of this shit.

But trying on dresses wasn't so bad. It was – dare I say it – kind of fun.

"I'm baaack!" Dom sang as she skipped into the room, holding at least four new outfits. "I think I found something you might actually like."

"Dom, she doesn't like what you like."

"I realized that." With a smirk, she shoved three dresses into my hands and held the last one. "Go on, try them."

I locked myself in the stall and smiled as I saw what she'd given me. "I'm not a prude, Dom."

"But you dress like one!"

"Shut up, Al."

I put on a relatively normal dress (orange, flowy, good length, good neckline, non-Dom-ish). Clearly Rose was better at this fashion thing, since this was something like what I wore on my first date with Al. I ignored the pang in my chest and stepped out the change rooms (a mirror whistled on my way out) to show Dom.

Only to find her shoving a dress over Al's head.

So _this _was why they were shouting so much.

"This is what – you _get_ – for being – such – a – _douchebag_!"

"You're insane, you know that?" Al bellowed, hands over his head and still trying to resist the pink dress from going over the top of his head. "I didn't do anything! You're the one who dragged me over here for three bloody hours!"

"Did you even _see _Emily for the past few days?"

I snorted. _Hello. Right here_…

"Of course, I'm bonded to her, remember?"

She managed to shove the dress over his head, stopping at his shoulders. "You're being such a jerk."

"I agreed not to be!"

"Well you're not doing a very good job!" She shoved it farther down his shoulders. "Merlin, everyone can see it! She looks so sad!"

"Oi, I'm not _sad_!" I cut in, marching over there with my hands on my hips. She didn't even spare me a glance. I rolled my eyes. "Dom, stop it. You're going to rip the dress."

She stopped, and Al stilled.

Then she quickly shoved it all the way down.

"What the hell!" he shouted as she stepped back, laughing. He stripped the dress over his head and threw it at her. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Weren't you listening?" she said, turning away as though she was officially dismissing him. Oh, Dom. She was definitely the kind of person who held that air of confidence that I envied. Like it was just so easy for her.

I nervously shifted my weight from foot to foot as she surveyed what I was wearing. Another mirror whistled before she nodded to Al. "Damn Al, you were right."

"Of course I was," he said angrily, taking deep breaths. He looked at me. "Fuck."

"You need ballet flats, I think," she said, tapping her chin. She suddenly brightened. "Ooh, can I curl your hair?"

I shrugged. Al was staring at me. "Sure."

Dom jabbered on suggestions as I changed and bought the dress, a waist belt and a pair of gold, shiny flats. Al was oddly quiet. He didn't even comment on the fact that we were finally leaving.

Strange boy.

* * *

As soon as got outside the store, we lost Dom. She'd spotted her boyfriend Lysander, squealed and ducked through the crowd to jump in his arms. I laughed.

"I can see why she'll follow him into doing Astronomy," I said to Al. He nodded, still not saying anything. I gave him a look. "Are you all right?"

He didn't answer, but made a small noise and stuffed his hands in his pockets. I frowned. That was not a valid form of communication. What was I supposed to do, read his mind? I didn't know Occulumency. I was screwed!

Before I could prod further, Dom came bag, Lysander hanging off her arm. "Hey, guys," she said cheerfully, bringing her boyfriend towards me. "Emily, Lysander, Lysander, Emily." He shook my hand politely. Dom looked as though she was going to piss herself from happiness.

Young love and all that shit, I guess.

"We're going to hang out for a bit, Lysander came for a new telescope," she said. "I'll be back at eight to do your hair and makeup."

"That's okay, I can –"

"See you then!" Next thing I knew, Dom and Lysander had disappeared, and I was left standing there with a shopping bag and a mute Al.

Greaaaat.

"So…" I said, biting my lip and turning to him. "What do we do now?"

Al shrugged.

"We could go home." If you could call it home. He could.

And yet, he still didn't say anything.

"Or we could hang out here. I don't really feel like clothes shopping anymore."

Nothing.

"Maybe get some food. Dinner's soon."

Another shrug.

"Bloody hell." I leapt in front of him, impressively managing to not trip over the cobblestone. He flinched, staring determinedly between my eyebrows and cheekbones, never meeting my eyes. I put my hands on my hips. "What's _wrong _with you?"

"Nothing," he insisted, hands still deep in his pockets. "Just tired."

I stepped closer to him. He didn't step back. "Al, I swear, if you don't hold up your end – if you don't follow my rules," I explained quietly, "I will not follow yours."

He visibly swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean –" I glanced around to the crowd around us, gesturing to them. "Do you really want all these people to see Albus Potter and his Public Displays of Affection?"

His eyes turned to slits. "You wouldn't."

"Watch me," I said loftily, wrapping my arms around his neck.

Hey, I can play dirty if he forces me to.

It took him approximately five seconds to get over his shock and scramble away from me, looking as though he wanted to be far, far away. Ouch. Either way, I was smug and victorious.

I mean, the rules were _his _idea.

"Emily?" he asked, cutting into my thoughts. I raised an eyebrow. He seemed a little nervous – almost skittish, in fact. "Can you keep a secret?"

* * *

"I thought you didn't want to go home."

After I swore not to tell anyone whatever Al was so secretive about, he'd grabbed my hand (violation of rule number one) and apparated us back home. Very strange. Didn't he just express how he didn't want to go back there?

AND WHY WAS HE SO JITTERY?

"I don't," he said mysteriously, unlocking the door to the house and stepping inside. "Seriously Em, no one knows about this."

"Knows about what? Are you a serial killer or something?"

He laughed. "No."

"Really?" I prodded teasingly. "No dead bodies?"

"Nah." I followed him through the house, leaving my shopping bag on the kitchen counter before following him outside. We set through the Potter's backyard; it was a beautiful array of flowers and plants. To my surprise, beyond the actual yard was a dirt path leading further to something that looked like an actual garden.

"It almost looks wild," I commented lightly. The flowers were growing in bunches together, sorted clearly, but they were growing tall and overlapping slightly over their respective patches. Al shrugged from beside me.

"Mum and Dad work on them," he explained, shoving his hands in his pockets again. "They've been a bit busy to keep them up this year, I guess. It used to be sort of their way of spending time together."

I leaned down to sniff a rose. "Did you ever work on them?"

"Not really." I stood up. He grinned at me. "Too lazy."

I laughed. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

We took a turn, the dirt crunching beneath our shoes. Al glanced behind us. "You really can't tell anyone. My family knows the general area, but they never really figured out the exact spot."

Confusing. Thanks, Al. "What are you talking about?"

"There's this place here…" He kicked a couple of dry leaves out of the way as we reached the end of the path: a small opening – an entrance, if you will – to a forest. Al turned nervously to me. "I used to come here all the time when I had to think. Just to get away."

"To this forest?"

"Yeah." He bit the inside of his cheek. "Don't tell anyone where it is."

I had to give him my word again before we ventured forth, ducking under branches, climbing small hills and shaking rocks out of my shoes. I had no idea how he knew where he was going – it all looked the same to me – but I trusted him. He'd probably gone there a million times over the years.

I couldn't believe he was showing me this place. Part of me thought it was because he looked as though he really needed to take a step back and think about things (let's face it: things were pretty intense at the moment), and it was only because I was bonded to him that I was going to see this place. He probably would've preferred to come alone.

But there must have been _some _part of him that trusted me enough to show me this place. He could've just come up with some way to just sort out his thoughts. He didn't have to take me here. I was hoping that somewhere inside of him, he took that friendship rule to heart and would talk to me about himself. I wanted to know who he was underneath the act he put on.

Maybe this was a start.

After about fifteen minutes of dodging our way through the wild branches and plants, we finally reached a clearing. It seemed that in the middle of this forest, Al had found a bridge, and a few metres below it was a small pond. I realized he must've found the place by following a stream to it.

"Yeah," Al burst out into the silence. He looked jumpy again. "I found this place when I was nine. Scared the shit out of my parents, but whenever I needed to leave, I just came here."

I exhaled, coming closer to the pound. I could see tiny fish swimming around. "This place is beautiful."

"It really is." He strode over to the middle of the wooden bridge and sat down, hanging his feet over the edge. I came up beside him, not saying a word. I could tell by the way he was leaning over and staring at the water current and breathing deeply that he needed a moment to himself. I laid back on the bridge and stared at the clear blue sky through the trees, breathing in the wood-sy smell.

I could spend my summer days here, easy. I could see how Al did.

After some time of drifting in and out of sleep, Al laid down. I gave him a small smile. "You feeling better?"

He nodded, closing his eyes. "You're not going to tell anyone about this place, right?"

"I don't know how many times I'm going to reassure you before you believe me." He laughed. I glanced to him. "I am the only other person who knows about this place?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks for sharing it with me."

He nodded and looked back at me. "Am I acting like myself again?"

"A little." I turned on my side and reached over to press my thumb and index finger at the ends of his lips, stretching out so that his lips were turned upwards. He batted my hands away. I laughed. "Just smile, will you?"

He broke out into said smile. I wanted to kiss it. "Okay, okay. I'm smiling."

"That's the Al I know." I flipped onto my back and gazed upwards at the sky. "Did you look for shapes in clouds when you were a little kid?"

"Who didn't?" he asked playfully. "Yeah, definitely. I used to write stories about that kind of stuff. Worlds in the sky."

"Wow…"

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I was a weird kid."

"Still are," I teased. "I used to imagine that sort of stuff, too, but mostly I kept to imagining bouncing on them. Like a trampoline."

"Like magic." He put his hands behind his head, brushing my arm lightly with his elbow. "When did you first do magic?"

I thought for a moment. "Before Hogwarts, I think. My family almost didn't think I'd be able to do magic, but I performed magic when I was ten, in May. Right before coming to Hogwarts. Garden gnomes used to freak me out. It was running towards me, once – pretty stupid, it was – and somehow, it just went flying backwards." I grinned at the memory. "It was awesome."

Al laughed. "That's better than mine."

"When did you first use magic?"

"In grade school. My mum and dad made us go through Muggle schooling to learn how to read and write."

"Same."

"Some of James' friends were chasing me," he began. "They liked doing that. They never really hurt me, but they loved to push me around and tease me. James did the same. Big brother and all that. But that time, he wasn't around, and the meanest kid in his group wanted to beat me up."

"What did you do?"

"Climb up a tree." He laughed. "I was never good at climbing trees. There was definitely some magic going on there."

"Wow." I exhaled. "I never knew you were bullied."

"Yeah, I was."

"I used to be the bully," I told him. "I don't even remember why. I just ended up making friends with those people. I wasn't even the leader – I was the one supporting them." I played with the hem of my shirt. "I felt really bad about it after fourth year. I started noticing how hurt people felt."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Things just… changed."

He was silent for a moment.

"I wasn't bullied after I came to Hogwarts," he said. "I didn't know why. People were really nice to me. They stared at me a lot. A couple asked me for autographs, it was really strange."

"You mean you didn't know about your fame before you came to Hogwarts?"

"Nope." He popped the 'p'. "I didn't know why my family didn't tell me. Maybe it was best to grow up without the paparazzi. But I didn't understand why my parents never told us that we were before we went off to school."

"Yeah, Scorpius had a hard time growing up with it."

"Yeah, his publicity was probably worse since his father was a Death Eater." He sighed. "It was Hagrid who told me. He told James, too. I couldn't believe my parents had done all that. It explained a lot, though."

"About what?"

"Why my parents weren't home a lot," he said. "I knew my mum was a Quidditch player, but I didn't know my dad saved the wizarding world. I didn't know that he broke into Gringotts and flew out on a dragon and that he defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time. He should've told me."

"You have to admit, though," I said, grinning. "That's pretty cool."

He laughed. "Yeah, true. I just wish they were home more when we were kids."

"You got pretty close to James and Lily though, right?"

"Yup."

"That's great." I shifted into a more comfortable position against the wooden bridge. "I wish I had siblings."

"By all means, use mine." He snorted. "And by the looks of it, you already have."

"What?"

"It's like you've molded yourself into the family," he explained. "They already love you."

I smiled. "I'm glad. I like your family."

"Me too…" he trailed off. "It's just that they put a lot of pressure on me to be in Gryffindor. The whole Weasley thing, I guess. I hated that."

"But you were in Gryffindor."

"I almost wasn't." I remembered Rose telling me this, but I pretended to be surprised when he said, "I was almost sorted into Slytherin."

"Really? Do you know why?"

"I think it's because I can be a coward."

I chuckled. "Al, if you were a coward, you wouldn't have married me. You wouldn't have done any of this against the Ministry. You're fine."

"I think I'm a coward when it matters most." He paused. "I'm also ambitious."

I watched the clouds float by for a little while before speaking. "You know, I was more like my dad when I started Hogwarts. I think that was why I was sorted into Slytherin. But as time went on, and… _certain things _happened, I started to become more like my mum. Who was a Hufflepuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I crossed my arms against my stomach. "I've been thinking about those houses lately, and Hogwarts. How we were so segregated, but now I know you and all your cousins, who are all in different houses – and how you're practically my best friend, now."

"That did happen…" he said, smiling.

"Didn't it?" I bit my lip. "I've just been thinking how it just seemed to be such bullshit. We meet so many different people in our lifetime. Why would we want to be constantly around people who are _exactly _like us?"

"True."

"And we have traits from _every _house," I continued. "Yeah, you can be cowardly sometimes and you're also ambitious, but you're fiercely loyal. I'm not as cunning as I used to be. My mum was in Hufflepuff, but she had the brains of a Ravenclaw. Same with your Aunt Hermione, except she was in Gryffindor. You can't truly sort someone into one house without them having characteristics from all of them."

"So if you could change anything about Hogwarts," he said, "would it be the houses? Would you get rid of them?"

"Yeah…" I nodded. "I think I would."

He laughed. "That was my number one wish as an ten year old, ever since James was sorted into Gryffindor. After I turned eleven, I started wishing for a broom."

"Yeah, Quidditch was great. I loved playing."

We talked until night fell and our stomachs were aching with hunger. At some point, we'd dipped our feet in the pond and watched the fish nip at our toes. We contemplated eating the fish, but they were just too cute. We'd (okay, mostly I) had become ridiculously giggly.

Later, I realized that what I said was true. We practically _were_ best friends, because it wasn't as if Al didn't trust me. The things that Al had hidden from me were the things he hid from everybody. It was as though he was taking small steps towards letting me know who really was, and for the first time, he'd shown someone – _me_– that place that he felt most at home.

But that's when I realized that I didn't really know that much about him. Yeah, I knew that side of him most people didn't. His family thought he was a grumpy, sarcastic git most of the time. He was oddly quiet around them. I knew that caring, loving and joking side. I fell in love with that side. But didn't I need to also love his flaws? I didn't know him as well as I thought I did.

He was trying to open up to me, like I'd asked him to. He really was.

But it only made me wonder whether I was really in love with him just yet.


	32. Emily: The Patronus

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Emily: The Patronus**

It was surreal.

That whole _night_ was surreal.

* * *

The day had started out great. Went shopping, found a cute dress, talked to Al for over three hours. After the sun set, we (okay, I) skipped back to the house and ate dinner with Al's family. Then Dom came over. I let her do my hair.

Big mistake.

"Keep that wand _away_ from my ear!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Dom said, trying to concentrate on the hot wand that was working as a curling iron. "Bloody hell, how hot does this thing have to be for your hair to curl?"

"I dunno, I haven't tried curling my hair in a long time."

Dom had come over after dinner and barricaded us in Lily's room, which was slightly smaller than Al's room. Her walls were bright orange and covered with bulletin boards that were, in turn, plastered with old newspaper clippings. Her bookshelves took up another wall, overflowing with thick books.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror of Lily's dresser. "We could just leave it like this," I suggested for the tenth time.

"Yeah, we should probably leave soon," Al piped up from the bed, where he was lying and reading the newspaper. "It's past nine. Where's Lily, anyway?"

I shrugged and Dom ignored him, sticking out her tongue as she twirled my brown hair around her wand. "I… I've _almost_ got it…"

"Seriously, Dom," I tried again, "I'm used to having straight hair. It's okay." She ignored me again and yelped triumphantly a moment later, grinning and brandishing the newly formed curl.

"Got it," she said happily.

I glanced at Al in the mirror and found him looking at me. I stuck my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Hey, Al," Dom said suddenly, "have you told Emily about your first time going to this club?"

"The very first?" She nodded. Al snorted. "Absolutely not. That was mortifying."

"It was," she said, giggling as she finished another curl. "He was fifteen and even stupider than he is now, if you can imagine. Oh shut it, Al, you know it's true," she told him as he protested. "You actually thought you could take on James and Fred in taking shots."

He thought for a second. "Okay, I was pretty stupid."

"What happened?" I asked.

"I planned on getting piss drunk, though," Al said before Dom could tell her side of the story. "It was right after fifth year, remember? Pretty bad time."

"Oh yeah…" Dom shrugged and turned back to me. "Basically, Fred and James have this tradition of taking shots and seeing who could take the most before admitting they're completely gone. You'll see, they'll do it again tonight."

I laughed. "Do you usually participate?"

"Sometimes," she said. "Only until I'm buzzed."

I looked at Al. He shrugged. "Yeah. But I know when to give in, now."

Damn. I was hoping to get some answers.

"But that was his first time drinking," Dom explained, going back to the story. "James and Fred snuck him anything he wanted. Didn't know his limit. Idiot. He got completely wasted just past twelve and ended up making a huge fool of himself on the dance floor."

I laughed at Al's blushing face.

"James and Fred had to drag him back to Fred's place," she continued. "He threw up on Fred's rug and started blubbering. Told them all about his breakup and passed out in the middle of explaining."

"And then they told everyone." I grinned at Al, who was covering his face with his hands. "So what happened when you went to a real club?"

"That's a story for another time," Dom announced, standing up and waving her wand to cool it. Al looked relieved. "I'm done."

"Great, it's only half past nine."

"We're fashionably late."

"You're fashionably horrible."

"Shut up, Al."

* * *

One of the strangest parts of the night was looking around the club – neon lights, bar, glowing dance floor, thumping music, slutty clothes, slutty _people – _and realizing that I'm eighteen, and I've never done any of this. And I finally was. And I was almost excited.

It was just me, being a regular teenager for the first time.

* * *

The place was small and crowded and filled with Hogwarts students. I recognized some of the younger ones from Slytherins and even a couple of faces here and there from the other houses. Perhaps I would've found more people I knew if they were wearing their Hogwarts uniforms – that's all I'd even seen them in – but at that moment, they'd seem to have transformed into teenagers looking for a good time.

It was a little nerve-wracking and claustrophobic. I didn't know what to do with myself other than to follow Al to the large group that was his family, sitting in booths off the side of the dance floor. Fortunately, knowing the size of the Potter-Weasley family, they were easy to find.

James. Fred, holding hands with a brunette. Rose and Scorpius. Dom and Lysander. Lorcan. And, to Al's surprise, Hugo and Lily.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked them as we approached the booth and slid in. "You're not old enough to be here."

"We're fifteen, Al," Lily told Al, crossing her arms against her chest. Oh, smart girl. Hiding her outfit from her older brother. Probably the best idea.

"I thought you were five," Al said distractedly.

Lily rolled her eyes and turned back to her cousin.

I fidgeted as Al greeted his family. _Now_ I was nervous; I'd never done anything like this. The first time I drank was in Rome, and I ended up spilling my darkest secrets to Al. I was used to reading at home on Friday nights. I was wearing a prude dress. I didn't know how to dance like… _that_. This wasn't my scene.

Shit, I needed to get out of there.

"Al," I said quietly, nudging him. He was laughing at something Fred said. "_Al_."

"Yeah?" he asked, barely listening.

"I want to go home."

"Huh?"

"Please, Al."

"What? I can't hear you, speak up."

I pushed the other side of his neck gently, pulling his ear towards me. "I want to leave."

He shook away from me, eyes widening in surprise. _That_ got his attention.

I let go, avoiding his eyes and biting my lip in anticipation. I just wasn't used to the place. I felt as though there were a million butterflies fluttering in my stomach – or something more extreme. Like nausea. Merlin, I didn't even want to think about going on the dance floor.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah…" I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I just want to leave."

"But we just got here."

"I know."

"Emily…" Al pushed me out of the booth, away from the table. He exhaled and looked me in the eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I don't fit in here," I burst out, my cheeks reddening.

"Nobody does at first."

"I don't think I can do this," I mumbled nervously. I wasn't sure if he'd heard me over the music, but he sure got the message from my fidgeting with my dress. Or maybe from the tears filling my eyes. "Can we leave?"

Al sighed. "This is why James didn't tell you."

"I guess…" I shrugged. "I didn't know it would be like this. I mean, I knew, but I didn't think I'd be so uncomfortable with it."

He chuckled and wiped a tear from my cheek. Violation of rule number one. Again. Also, tears? _Dammit_. "We're not leaving. Come on, talk to my family. Laugh a bit. You'll feel better."

"You sure?"

"I'll get you a drink, too," he promised, rolling his eyes.

I sniffed, smiling again. Not what I wanted, but okay. "Thanks, Al."

When we got back, almost everyone had left the booth. Great timing, I suppose. James, Hugo, Lily, Lorcan, Dom and Lysander all disappeared, scattering on the dance floor. Only Fred, the brunette and Rose were left. I slid next to her, who was staring at the bar wistfully as Scorpius ordered a drink.

"What I would do for a drink right now."

"Not advisable," I told her, reaching out and patting her stomach. She was getting bigger. Rose smiled and gave me an awkward half-hug. "How're you? How's the baby?"

"Coming along," she admitted happily. "The new apartment's nice, we designed a nursery. You should visit, I miss you two."

"Me too?" Al interjected, almost hopefully. I didn't blame him; his best friend had been giving him the cold shoulder for almost half a month. Rose laughed and reached across the table to ruffle his hair.

"Yes, you too."

"Aw, Rose, you _do_ love me!" he exclaimed, laughing.

"Sometimes." She smiled at Scorpius, who slid in next to Al. She eyed his drink. "Damn, I'm so jealous."

"Just until January," he said, taking a swing from his bottle. "Barely five months until the baby's due, can you believe it?"

"Do you know the sex yet?" I asked. I had never felt so old – in a club, talking about babies. I was practically on my way to becoming a grown adult. Four years of Healing School before practicing in the field. And then I could get _married._

Oh, wait. I was already married.

Wait, would I still be with Al? Would I have to have _children_?

"Don't know yet," Rose answered, cutting into my thoughts. "Meeting's pretty soon, you should come with."

I beamed, earlier thoughts drifting out of my mind. _No sense thinking about the future when I didn't know what was happening _now_,_ I supposed. "I'd love to."

"You too, Al."

"Me?" Scorpius choked on his drink a little. Al ignored him. His expression was unreadable. "Okay, sure."

"How many people are we allowed in there?" I asked, chuckling. "Isn't your mother coming, too?"

"I'm coming as well, of course." Fred had decided to grace us with his presence, jumping right into the conversation. He grinned at us. "What'd I miss?"

"Baby stuff," Scorpius answered.

"Ugh, never mind." I laughed. Fred gestured towards the girl sitting beside him. "Emily, this is Ryan. Pretty sure you haven't met before."

She was too far away to shake hands. I waved. "Nice to meet you."

She smiled and nodded at me before Fred kissed her playfully. Lovingly. It was so strange. I never took Fred for someone who would already have settled down, he just seemed so young – even younger than me – to be ready for that. I was surprised to hear he was twenty-one.

"I've got to get going, I have work to do," she told us apologetically. Al and Scorpius stood as they slid out of the booth. To my surprise, Fred headed towards James at the bar while Ryan headed out the door.

A moment passed before Al shrugged at us and followed Fred.

Okay, did he just ditch me?

* * *

Never be the third wheel, if you can help it.

It's awkward.

* * *

I stayed at the booth for some time, chatting with Rose and Scorpius about their baby and their new apartment. I told them more details about my bond with Al and how it got my dad out of Azkaban, why we didn't tell them about the marriage being a fake, how I fell for Al… in the end, I felt a lot better about the whole mess we hid from them. Scorpius was definitely relieved I wasn't pregnant, after all.

I took my cue to leave when they started snuggling, though.

I joined Al, James and Fred at the bar. It seemed they were well into their game of taking shots; Fred was pushing another shot towards Al, who was shaking his head. James was clearly on Fred's side.

"Don't be such a wimp," James was saying as I slid onto the stool beside Al. Fred, who was sitting beside him, pushed the glass towards Al again. "Come on, Al, one more."

"No." I could from Al's wavering voice that he'd already taken quite a few. "I'm not a wimp, James."

"Yes you are!" James exclaimed loudly, waving the bartender over. "Come on, Darren, tell Al he's being a wimp."

The bartender rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to smile. He was kind of attractive, actually; must have been only a couple of years older than me, with little stubble shadowing the lower half of his face and messy, dark hair resting on his head.

He winked at me. "Can I get you something?"

"Something light," Al answered before I could open my mouth. I scowled at him.

"_Al_."

"It's not in – insulting," he stuttered, spinning around on his stool to face me. "You're a light weight."

"Al?"

This time, we both spun around to the sound of the unknown voice behind us. Standing there was a girl around our age, twirling her sandy brown hair in one hand, another hand on her hip. She was very small, and looked very familiar.

"Leah!" Al broke out into a smile and slid off the stool to hug her. I felt a pang in my chest. "How – how are you?"

"Doing well, you?" she asked as they broke apart. "I read your articles in the _Prophet_. Are you purposefully using sarcasm, or is that a gut reaction?"

He snorted. "Have to make the ministry look st - stupid somehow. Where's Royce? Or Sarah? I haven't s - seen them all summer."

"There's somewhere around here…" Leah looked back, searching the dance floor. "I'll let them know when I find them." She hugged him again, and I fought the urge to hex the bitch. "Great seeing you, Al."

"See you," he called as she disappeared back into crowd of dancing people. As soon as he turned around again, James and Fred were back to pushing the shot glass to him. I bit my lip.

"Who's that?" I asked quietly so James and Fred wouldn't hear.

"Leah?" I nodded. He shrugged. "My friend. She was in Gry - Gryffindor, in our year. _No_, Fred, I'm n – n - not taking it!" he insisted when Fred flicked the back of Al's head. "Stop!"

I barely heard Fred's words; I was busy repeating '_friend_' in my mind. _Friend. Friend. FRIEND._ "Al, don't be such a wuss. You haven't even come close to your record."

_Friend. _"I'm not going to be an idiot tonight, Fred-d-d."

_Friend._ "I resent that, wimp."

_Friend._ "I'm not a wimp!"

_Friend. _"Then take it!"

_Friend._ "No!"

_Of course, he would hug his friend, but not… whatever I am. Whatever he thinks of me as._

And without another thought, I reached across Al, grabbed the shot glass and downed it.

* * *

Don't drink in front of people who want you piss drunk.

* * *

Al, Fred and James stared at me in awed silence. The liquid burned my throat as it went down, as though it was reaching for every part and stabbing it. It stung and tasted strong – like the taste in your mouth you get when you smell rubbing alcohol, or gasoline. I don't know how I kept it down and didn't choke it out, but I did.

James and Fred were impressed, the say the least.

James whistled loudly as Fred reached across Al to thump my back. I winced. "Ah, look at that! Someone just had their first shot!"

I flushed. "Shut up, Fred."

He grinned widely. "Oi, Darren, get the girl another one!"

The bartender winked as he set it down in front of me. I blushed again. My head began to feel heavy, just as I did that morning, but instead of it slowly fading away, it was getting stronger.

"One for the lady," Darren corrected as I tipped my head back again.

"Lady!" Fred cheered.

"Even Emily's got more guts then you," James said to Al, nudging him. Al's face was expressionless. Or shocked. I didn't think he expected me to take one, let alone another. Or a third. I heard James whistling again when I took another shot. "Come on, Al, be a man."

"He's already a ma

* * *

n," Fred mocked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Isn't he?"

"Oh, right." Darren gave another shot to James, who downed it immediately. "But he's still a wimp, even if he's entered manhood."

"Barely," Fred added, sniggering.

Wait.

What were they talking about? Al being a man? Entering manhood?

Were they talking about his virginity?

My head was spinning, but my thoughts were shouting at me, begging for attention. Were Fred and James bluffing, or did Al really have sex before? And if so, who with? Holly? Was Al the type of person to be in love with someone before having sex? Was he in love with Holly?

Was he _still_ in love with her?

* * *

Note to self: these are the only acceptable times to be alone in a club:

1. You are single.

2. You can do that dance. You know. The one where you grind your body all over someone else's? Yeah. That dance.

3. You're not utterly innocent. Or at least, you don't _look_ innocent.

4. You know exactly what you're doing.

5. It's not your first time there.

* * *

I had to leave the bar after that. I didn't know if any of what I was thinking was true, but I felt as though I was suffocating from the mere thought of all of it. Hell, I didn't even want his _friend_ to be hugging him (but mostly because he wouldn't hug me because of his rules).

Either way, I think three shots were enough to set me off.

I couldn't go to the bar. I didn't want to think about anyone Al may or may not be in love with. I couldn't go back to the booth; it didn't want to be reminded of Rose and Scorpius and how fucking _perfect_ their relationship was. I couldn't go home, because I was still bonded.

The only place left was the dance floor.

I stumbled into the crowd, weaving my way through, around and around. I didn't know what I was doing, what I was searching for. I was dizzy and on the verge of tears and _not_ thinking about Al. I wasn't even dancing.

I stopped.

I couldn't really feel my limbs, as though they were waterlogged and completely free at the same time. The people around me were a blur, the music pounding in my ears, so loud I couldn't hear my own thoughts anymore. I was just standing there. Confused. Not confused. Dizzy. Bright lights. The smell of alcohol. The feel of it running through my veins.

Then suddenly, hands were sliding on my waist.

"You look lost," whispered a voice in my ear. I couldn't speak. His body slowly pressed against mine, his chest, his abdomen, his hips – fuck. He was much bigger than me, too tall, too muscular – all wrong, completely wrong, he wasn't Al, so why was he doing this?

But I couldn't move.

"I'm not lost," I gasped, slurring my words. I tried to turn around, but I only managed to press closer to him. My dress caught against the fabric of his jeans and rode up. His arms and hands were pressing us together, our chests together and just too close. _Get away. Get away._

"Are you sure?" he muttered. His voice was like butter. His blond hair looked a bit like butter in the dark, neon lighting. He had to be at least three years older than me. What was he doing in a predominantly underage club? "Where are you going?"

I faltered.

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

It was as though he sensed it, as though he _knew_ how alone and vulnerable at that moment. He dipped down to whisper in my ear, sending a chill down my back. "That's what I thought." He pressed a kiss underneath my ear. I shuddered.

_No, stop. Please stop._

"Dance with me," he commanded, voice low. I shook my head, trying to step backwards, but his arms were still around my waist.

"N – no, I can't."

"Of course you can." He pressed another kiss on my skin, this time on my neck. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't be left alone."

"I have a boyfriend," I found myself saying, trying again to wiggle out from his grip.

The man chuckled. "You don't have a boyfriend," he said. "If you were my girlfriend, I'd never let you out of my sight."

"No, wait –" I cut off with a gasp when he started sucking on my pulse point. Fuck. This was getting bad. "Stop. Please. I have a boyfriend."

He chuckled against my skin, unrelenting. "Liar."

"No, she does," said a male voice loudly from behind me. The man straightened up immediately upon glancing at him, finally sliding his hands off of me. I spun around to see Hugo, who wasn't looking at me, but glaring at the man. "Hands off."

The man stalked away. He obviously knew not to mess with someone so famous.

"Thank you, Hugo," I told him, sighing in relief and sliding my arms around him.

"No problem," he said, chuckling. He patted my back in attempt to comfort me. "Are you okay? Where's Al?"

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his shoulder. "I don't knooow. He doesn't care about me. He's _such_ a git. Merlin, I love him soooo much, how could he just treat me like that? Why would he _do_ that, Hugo?"

Well.

The amount I had to drink was pretty clear.

Hugo laughed and patted my back again. "Come on, Emily. Let's find Al so I can get back to my boyfriend."

"You're gay?" I asked, extra loudly.

"Yuppers." He paused. "Don't tell my dad, he doesn't know yet."

I chuckled, following him through the crowds of people back to the bar. I didn't know how I managed to get lost in such a small place, but I suppose being upset and drunk at once does something to you.

Especially because once we got back to the bar, Al saw me, and I swear – it was as though his eyes lit up. On fire. He launched himself off the stool and towards me, grasping around my middle and squeezing me as though his life depended on it.

"Al?"

"Emily!" he shouted happily, grabbing my hand. "Where have you been? Let's dance!"

Fred and James high-fived behind him.

* * *

Al caves under peer pressure.

Eventually.

When he's already a little drunk.

* * *

You go to a club to dance. I knew that. I also knew that I could not grind like the majority of people of the dance floor. Neither could Al, apparently, and even if he could, I wouldn't have done it.

But Al… that little bastard lied.

He claimed that the shots he'd taken (he refused to tell me how many, but he _did_ brag that he'd broken his record) had some sort of effect that made him magically have the ability to dance. Minutes later, he was spilling out the truth.

He could dance. Maybe he couldn't do the kind of dancing everyone else was doing – well, if he could, he didn't try it – but he somehow knew every other dance known to mankind. He blamed it on his sister needing a dance partner when she was little, and he got suckered into it. No wonder he was bullied when he was little.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but I couldn't help think that he was really good at this. I don't even know the dances we did. All I could think of how amazing he smelled even with the alcohol on his breath and how weird this was.

But dancing was really... _fun_.

"How many dances did Lily _do_?" I asked breathlessly as he lead across the floor. Al shrugged, the grin unwavering from his face.

"I dunno, but this is really fun!" He spun me. "Wheeeee!"

I laughed uncontrollably, falling back into him. I was sure people were staring at our strange, non-grinding dancing, but I couldn't care less. "Dear Merlin, how long has it been since you danced with someone?"

"I loooong time," he said seriously, swaying back and forth. "It's the shots, I sweaaar. I'm no good without them."

I laughed again. Why was I laughing? "I'm sorryyyy," I slurred. "I'm much worse than your sister at dancing."

"She was eight, Emily." He pulled me close, still smiling widely. "I'd rather dance with you."

"Bullshit," I exclaimed, as though he were across the room rather than two centimetres away. "I suck at this! I stepped on your toes five times!"

"Six!" he corrected, giggling.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "You're so cute."

"I'm not cute!" he protested, pouting. "You're cute. Admit it."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Ye – GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER, YOU NUMPTY!"

Al was suddenly livid, gently pushing me away and storming across the floor and in through the next open room. I followed him into the darkened part of the club with numerous pool tables. Lily was perched on top of one table, legs wrapped around Lorcan waist.

They were practically snogging in broad daylight.

Al stormed over and wrenched them apart, slamming Lorcan against a wall and pressing his wand against his chest. His face was red with anger and alcohol and dancing. "What the hell, Lorcan!"

"Albus, get off of him!" Lily shouted.

"She's my girlfriend!" Lorcan protested, obviously very irritated by the fact that someone shorter than him was threatening him like this. They were family friends, too. "Come on, Al, I'm allowed to snog her."

Al lowered down his wand, stepping away from him. "I didn't know you were dating her."

"Albus –"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, rounding on his sister. "He's two years older than you, Lils."

She looked quite ashamed. And quite drunk.

"Sorry, Al," she muttered, "but it's none of your business."

Al turned back to Lorcan, wand drawn again. I could tell that it was a real blow – Al and his siblings were really close – but he didn't show it. He poked Lorcan in the chest. "Watch your back," he said quietly.

I couldn't watch anymore. I reached over and took his hand, leading him away from the pool tables and back to the bar. James and Fred had disappeared. "Water, please," I requested quietly. Darren took one look at Al and nodded.

Al sat on the stool and put his head on his hands. I sat beside him and shifted closer. Once we'd gotten our water (and bread, even though we didn't ask for it), he whispered in my ear.

"I don't usually do that." He sounded pained. "I don't care if Lily snogs her boyfriend. She's supposed to. I'm okay with that."

"But she didn't tell you." He nodded and took a long gulp of water. Not that he needed it, really; it was as though his sister had lowered his buzz. A lot. I sighed and took his hand again, kissing the back. "It's okay, Al. Maybe you guys can talk when you're not drunk."

"Yeah." He looked so sad. I knew that if he wasn't drunk, he would've brushed it off like it was nothing.

And I might've believed him.

Once we were finished, I hopped off the stool and pulled Al back onto the dance floor. "Dance with me."

He shook his head. "I don't really feel up to dancing anymore."

"I didn't ask." He chuckled and I grinned, pulling him close and resting my hands on his shoulders. His hands found my waist. "There, feel better?"

"Not really." I smacked the back of his head and he laughed. "A little. We're breaking the rules, Emily."

"Do you care?"

He pulled me closer so that our faces were centimetres apart. We were slow dancing to club music. Interesting. "I'll do it, just for tonight."

I smiled. "Okay. I'll take what I can get."

We swayed for a long time, not saying anything. I glanced around – his eyes, his eyebrows, his nose, left, right – shyly, nervously. He was doing the same, until there was this one point when we locked eyes. I didn't know what it was about his gaze, but I couldn't look away.

He broke the connection to close his eyes and pressed kiss on my forehead, lingering there. "You look so beautiful tonight, you know that?"

I blushed. My stomach was bursting with butterflies. "Thank you."

He pulled me closer to him, holding me tightly as my head shifted to lie on his chest. The music seemed to hum around us. I felt as though I'd been transferred to a novel or a film, like it was just two of us, the only ones in the world.

He kissed the top of my head. It felt perfect.

* * *

Alcohol really does loosen the tongue.

* * *

"Al?"

His chest vibrated when he spoke. "Hmm?"

"What's the story of your first time at a real club?"

He laughed. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"It's stupid."

"I love seeing you stupid."

He laughed again. "Fred got me in," he began, still swaying me back and forth. "Sometime in the middle of the summer before sixth year. I was still little and stupid, but I just got a job at the _Prophet_, and he thought we should celebrate."

"More shots?" I asked, grinning.

"Yup!" He stared off over my head, thinking. Remembering. "I dunno why he got me in, I felt so weird there."

"So what happened?"

"Beat my first record," he stated, rolling his eyes. "I was completely smashed. I was in the 'I rule the world' mood since I just got over my breakup. Thought I was the most eli – eli – eligible bachelor and shit."

"And?"

"I hit on someone," he admitted, and rather painfully, might I add.

"Who?" I asked curiously.

"This… woman…" He scratched the back of his neck. "I thought I was doing okay. Drunk out of my mind, so maybe that's how I didn't catch on…"

I tilted my head in confusion. "What?"

"She was twenty-five."

"_What_?"

"Yeah…" He laughed nervously. "She lead me on, I think. Until she called me 'sweetie' and pinched my cheeks, I didn't know she was only kidding around."

There was a second of stunned silence before I burst out into loud, obnoxious laughter. I buried my face into Al's shirt to try and muffle the sounds, but I couldn't help it.

"Yeah, go on, laugh," he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I can't believe you thought you had a chance," I gasped.

"Go ahead, deflate my ego."

I took and deep breath and tried to stop giggling, but every time I would look up at his face and start laughing again. Al tried to hit on someone _ten years his elder._ And thought he was _succeeding_.

Merlin, that's priceless.

"Wish I was there," I said wistfully after some time, wiping my eyes. He laughed.

"No, you really don't…" He sighed. "I was being a cocky bastard. I'm glad that happened, I needed it."

I smiled sympathetically at him, my arms looping back around his neck. "Was your break up with Holly really that bad?"

He stiffened immediately.

"Yes."

I waited, but he didn't elaborate. I sighed. "Al…"

He swallowed. Hard. I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Yes, Emily?"

His heart was beginning to beat faster – I could feel it – but I didn't understand. Why was he panicking all of a sudden? Was he afraid of telling me? Did he think that he'd be able to tell me because he was drunk (though, admittedly, not as drunk as before)?

This had been going on for weeks, and I still hadn't a clue to why Al wanted so badly for me to get over him. I mean, first he told me he fancied me, spent our entire honeymoon getting me to realize my feelings for him and then flipped his heart around without a single explanation.

He hadn't relented, even a little.

I was sick and tired of getting hurt. I gave him _three_ _weeks_, and in that time, he managed to twist around and sneak past every move I made. He managed to make me feel wanted and know what he wanted – that he couldn't have – at the same time.

We were playing games, and I thought we were better than that.

Now was the time for the truth to come out.

I stopped moving, staring directly into his eyes. "Al," I began, "I know you're not exactly comfortable with telling me, but… you have to. You've been hurting me for weeks, and I'm tired of being lead on. I want to know what happened."

"Emily, I can't –"

"What I mean to say is," I interjected, "I _deserve_ to know what happened."

He paused.

"I know you do."

"Then why don't you tell me?" I asked.

"I've tried!" he said loudly, startling some people around us. He didn't notice. "Really, Em, I have. Once, I almost got it out. It's just –" He broke off, his hands subconsciously tightening around my waist. He dropped his forehead onto mine. "I really, _really _don't like thinking about it."

I reached to trace his cheek. "You can't just shove things to the back of your mind when you don't want to think about it, Al."

"It's _not_ that, Emily!" he practically shouted, and I flinched away.

But it _was_ that; it was as though I'd lit a fire. I'd forced him to think about it.

I'd started something.

"I _want_ you to know," he said, voice fierce. "I swear I do. But it's hard to talk about and the last thing I want to do is tell you while I'm drunk."

I bit my lip. "Al, what are you saying?"

"I don't know how to tell you," he said, finding and holding my gaze. "I'm really… I don't know where to start. I really screwed up, okay?"

"So?" I demanded. "You can fix things, Al! You can't run away and hide from them!"

He was livid again. "I don't want to make the same mistake! The only reason I told you to get over me is because you've been hurt so much already, and it just seems that no matter what I do, I am just always going to hurt you!"

"But you can't treat me like glass, Al," I protested angrily, "or like complete shit!"

It was as though the statement had made a physical blow to him; he winced and closed his eyes, breathing heavily and shaking. I sighed and pressed closer to him, our breath mingling together.

"Come on, Al," I whispered. "What are you so afraid of?"

He opened his eyes. They were brilliant shades of green. "Love."

My heart stopped.

* * *

The alcohol had loosened his tongue. It did.

But not enough to unravel everything he'd hidden so deeply in his mind.

* * *

I expected him to deny it, if anything. I expected him to do the chauvinistic 'I'm-not-afraid-of-anything-because-I-am-a-manly-man.' If he _was_ to admit he was afraid of something, I thought it would be himself. It was quite clear that he was, in any case.

I _never_ would've expected his answer.

And staring at him, in those eyes, in the midst of his confession, it seemed that every bodily function stopped working. I couldn't breathe. My legs were wobbly. My eyes were locked to his, as if I had a choice. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. I didn't know what to say.

All of a sudden, a hush ran over the crowd and the music abruptly cut off. We broke apart to see a white, brightly glowing corporeal patronus in the shape of a dog gliding above the crowd. I didn't know whose it was or who it was delivering a message to; I could only stare, jaw-dropped as it began to speak.

"_Minister has been murdered. Harry Potter held captive in the Ministry of Magic. Take refuge in respective homes immediately until further information."_

And just like that, everything in the world flipped upside down.


	33. Albus: The Stars

**Chapter Thirty-three: Albus: The Stars**

Nothing seemed real.

The club had gone dead quiet, but there was a distant ringing in my ears. I couldn't stop staring where the patronus had vanished, dissolved in thin air. It was as though everyone had frozen in time. I couldn't breathe.

And then there was chaos.

People began to scream and push around; even the employees were scrambling to drop what they were doing and be the first out the door. Some of the older ones had apparated, sending loud cracks around the room, creating a sensation of violent shaking – like an earthquake.

And I still couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't feel. The shots I had taken were numbing my mind and I was still ridiculously dizzy. The words of the patronus, in the voice of Teddy, were still echoing in my mind.

'_Harry Potter held captive in the Ministry of Magic.'_

My dad.

My _dad._

"Albus!" I heard Emily screaming in my face, beginning to shake me. I shifted my gaze from that spot where the patronus was to her face. She was panicking. I should've been panicking. Why wasn't I panicking? What was going on?

Her hands left my shoulders as she was swept into the chaotic crowd.

I snapped out of it as someone else pushed me. I blinked rapidly and shoved someone aside, reaching in the direction Emily was pushed. _Where the hell did she go? She was just there. She has to be somewhere, I couldn't have lost her so easily –_

Emily came out of nowhere and flew into my arms. I pulled her tightly against my chest.

"We need to go home, Al," she mumbled in my ear. Her words were slurred and I barely understood. Home. Right. Teddy's patronus said we needed to go home. And then everything might make sense again.

"Home," I croaked, the lump in my throat catching my speech. "Home."

Emily squeaked as yet another person shoved her. I caught her just before she fell. "Yes, Al, let's go _home_!"

My forehead was back against hers and she smelled so good. I breathed deeply. "Home. We need… how?"

"I – I don't –" She choked, tears streaming down her face. "Can we apparate drunk?"

"I – I don't think I can."

"I'll do it," she said, pulling out her wand. She stepped away and spun on the spot.

My hands loosely gripped her waist as we spun and squeezed into the blackness. My chest felt compressed until we landed, falling onto the porch in front of my house. The door was open, for some reason, and I could see people inside.

We'd made it.

"Emily," I grunted; she'd landed on top of me. "Get off." She didn't answer. She was still crying. I shook her. "Emily, come on. Get up."

"I – I can't."

"Why not?"

"Splinched," she gasped. My eyes widened and I gently pushed her off me, sitting up on my knees. Her eyes were clenched in pain and her dress had ridden up, showing the large gash on her left thigh, circling around as though a strip of her flesh had been ripped off.

"Fuck." _Now_ I was panicking. "No – MUM!" I shouted into the house. "I need your help! MUM!"

"Just a minute!" she called back.

"WE DON'T HAVE A FUCKING MINUTE!" I moved so that Emily's head was in my lap instead of the stone. She weakly gripped at my shin.

"It hurts," she whimpered.

I couldn't stop shaking as I looked at the wound again. I'd never felt so helpless. "I don't know any healing spells."

_Crack._

Dom and Lysander had apparated into the front yard. As soon as they saw us, they came running up the steps.

"What happened?" Dom cried, dropping to her knees beside me.

"Splinched." I pulled my white dress shirt over my head and handed it to her. Even my hand was shaking. "Tie this around her leg."

Dom shook her head and shoved the cloth to Lysander. "You do it." He nodded and crawled onto her other side. As soon as he lifted her leg, she gasped in pain.

"Don't touch it!"

"Emily –"

"Don't –" She screamed as the cloth touched her wound. I tried soothing her as he positioned it tightly. I held her hands and let her squeeze them. I kissed her forehead numerous times, whispering in her ear: it was going to be okay. It was.

"What's going on?" Mum had appeared in the doorway. She put her hand to her mouth. "How did she –"

"Splinched," I said shortly. I wasn't sure if she heard me over Emily's screaming. Lysander finished wrapping my shirt around her thigh and tapped it with his wand to secure it; blood was still seeping through, but she had stopped screaming.

"Good thinking," Mum mumbled, leaning down. "Emily, can you sit up?" She shook her head, still shuddering. Mum levitated her into the living room and set her down on the couch, propping her leg up on pillows.

"I'll be right back," Mum told me. "I'll get some treatment. Dom, Lysander, go to the kitchen with the others, will you?"

I sat beside Emily as Dom and Lysander left the room. I felt her hand grip mine as more of my family appeared; apparently, none of the Weasleys wanted to wait for more information and opted to come here. It was their second home, anyway.

Emily gave a loud sniff and wiped her tear-ridden face. "It's burning."

"I'll feel better soon," I promised.

"I'm really sleepy."

"Don't," I said urgently, turning to face her. "Not until my mum fixes your leg. Keep talking. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I don't _know_," she said loudly, frustrated. I didn't blame her. I was only _just_ keeping it back. "What the hell do you do when the saviour of the fucking world is captured? And by who? Who killed the minister?"

I sighed. I didn't want to think about that when I had to be strong for her. "I don't know."

"What's going on, Al?" she whispered sadly.

"I don't know," I repeated.

"Are we still bonded?"

"Want me to check?"

"No!" She pulled me closer, even though I hadn't moved. "No. Stay here. Please."

I brought her hand to my lips. "I'm not going anywhere. It'll be okay."

But who was I to say that when I didn't believe it?

* * *

It seemed that my home was slowly becoming more and more chaotic than the club. Not only had my family began to pour in, people I didn't know really well – friends of my parents – were appearing, demanding answers.

I couldn't even move because of Emily, and I was beginning to get impatient. I wanted answers too, dammit! Where was my dad? Who captured him? _How_ did they capture him? My dad was invincible. He could do anything.

After Mum treated Emily, she'd fallen asleep. It was late, anyway. I couldn't believe she'd managed to apparate while drunk – and get _me_ there all right.

I couldn't believe how that entire night had gone.

My cousins and siblings had gathered in the living room with me, sharing food and butterbeer. Fred had brought Ryan with him and they were speaking in hushed tones. Dom was sleeping in Lysander's lap. James was pacing. Lily staring at the wall where our family picture was hung. Lorcan was holding her hand as he dozed off. Hugo and Paul, his boyfriend, were playing wizard's chess to distract themselves. Victoire was tapping her foot impatiently for her husband, Teddy. Scorpius was trying to keep Rose calm. Louis, Roxanne, Molly, Lucy and Luke were sleeping on couches.

We were waiting, and it was torture.

It was around midnight when Teddy and a couple of aurors had shown up. It was though a hush had finally fallen over the house and everyone had just stopped screaming and pacing and crying. I untangled my fingers from Emily's and moved towards the kitchen with James and Fred.

"… there's no way into the ministry, we've tried everything. They've even somehow blocked elf magic," Teddy was reporting, nodding towards his fellow aurors I didn't recognize. "Uncle Ron's still there with some others and trying, but it seems impossible."

"So there's someone barricading the ministry?" Kingsley asked.

"We suspect it's a group. And they have Harry in there." My heart thudded at the mention of my father.

"How do we get him out?" Mum asked.

"That's the thing – there's probably no way in or out that we know of," Teddy explained. "He's trapped, most likely wandless. I suspect the group that's taken over the ministry will become public soon, but as of now, they seem to want to cause a little bit of chaos. They've somehow pushed everyone out of the ministry except for Harry, and the minister's body."

"Then what do we do?" Mum looked as though she was on the verge of tears. I didn't know how she was keeping herself together. "We can't just sit back and _wait_."

"We're not, we've just… run out of ideas." Teddy closed his eyes. I'd never seen him so worried. "We'll contact some more people, see if they can come up with something. Until we get in, we can't…"

A silence fell over the room.

"But for now," Teddy spoke up, "we have to find a place where all of us are safe. They just captured Harry for no reasons we know of. We don't know who they're targeting next."

James tensed beside me.

"How about here?" someone said, but I wasn't sure who.

"Too small," said my grandmother. "The Burrow."

"We can set up defensive charms," Mum agreed, wiping her eyes. "All over the property. I think we'll need to set up tents…"

"We should start now," said Teddy. He looked apologetic. "We don't know when they'll strike, and we don't want anyone else being captured, or hurt, or…"

_Killed._

A general agreement rushed through the room and began to bustle about, apparating to the Burrow and making plans. I looked and James; he was white and shaking. As soon as he could, he threw his arms around our mum, who looked more helpless than I'd ever seen her in my life.

Who _were_ these people? Why were they doing this?

* * *

As it turned out, the bond had broken with the minister's death.

Everyone quickly scrambled to pack. I threw my and Emily's things in a trunk as fast as I could, taking care to throw some of our books and things in. I lugged the thing down the stairs and found Emily sitting up.

Make that _throwing_ up.

I knew that little bit of water and bread we'd had wouldn't cut it for her; she got wasted and threw up over _half a bottle_ of firewhiskey last time. Scorpius vanished the vomit with a flick of his wand before steering Rose out of the room, who was also looking a little green at the sight of Emily. Whoops.

I dropped the suitcase in the doorway and sat beside her.

"Hey," I whispered, pulling her sweaty hair off her forehead. "How's your leg?"

"Better." She reached for my hand and leaned against me. "I don't think I'll need crutches or anything. It'll just be a bit of a challenge to walk."

"That's good."

She sighed. "What's going on?"

"I packed our things," I said, gesturing to the suitcase. "Everyone's doing that right now. The first portkey's leaving in five minutes, if you want to go."

"But where are we going? Why are we leaving? Where's your dad? What's –"

"Right." I felt stupid. She hadn't heard the conversation in the kitchen. Duh, Al. "Someone – the same person who killed the minister, probably – took over the ministry, got everyone to evacuate except my dad and then trapped him in there. No one can get in or out. Everyone's trying to get in, but so far…" I trailed off.

"He's in the ministry?" she asked, horrified.

"Yeah."

"And I'm guessing half your family's there right now."

"I wish I was there," I admitted. Emily shifted and wrapped her arms around me. I'd never felt so helpless, so defeated; I couldn't help her with her injury. I would never be allowed to go help the aurors trying to break into the ministry. I couldn't help the younger kids, because I was terrible with them. I couldn't even pack right.

Emily's right leg curled over my lap to hold me tighter. It was such an awkward position, but she didn't seem to care. "So where are we going?"

"The Burrow."

"Do they think that they might come back here? Whoever captured your dad might…"

"Yeah," I said quietly, and her arms tightened around my torso. "Do you want to leave now so you can go back to sleep?"

"Do you want to leave yet?" she asked.

I shrugged. All I wanted to do was go find my dad.

We sat there for a couple of minutes. I felt her chest moving against mine as she breathed deeply, her breath sending a tickling sensation on my neck. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else. Anything else.

We jumped when we heard my mother's voice.

"Last call for the first portkey!"

* * *

"Whoa."

"This is the Burrow," I said unenthusiastically, setting our trunk down in grass near the house. "Home to Weasleys, family events, magically altered muggle artefacts and chickens." I glanced sideways to her. "Perhaps the occasional gnome, as well."

"How does it stay up?" she murmured. I surveyed the house, and supposed she had a point; having been there so many times, I'd never really noticed how the home seemed to be toppling over.

I shrugged. "Magic."

She smirked at my words and laced her fingers through mine.

Relatives were everywhere, scattered out over the property. A few tents were already set up and there was an enormous pile of plush, blue sleeping bags resting by the entrance of the house. A couple of acres away, I could see my grandparents and uncles and aunts setting up what seemed to be metre-high posts, pushed into the ground. Others were waving their wands and muttering under their breaths.

"They're creating a force field," I said, realizing it as I spoke.

"Really?"

I nodded, amazed. "I think they did this during the war, too. Against Voldemort." Even as I said it, I knew she was going to tense up. I think I did, too.

Were these people as powerful as Voldemort?

But they had my dad.

Were they worse?

The adults had decided to keep most of the elders in the bedrooms of the house. Most of the parents took tents and sleeping bags in the front yard; some were still at the ministry, trying to break in.

Like Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione and Teddy. They were relentless.

It seemed like a wedding; everyone I knew was here. Every single Weasley imaginable, the Lovegoods, the Scamanders, the Longbottoms. The Malfoys and Goyles. Some aurors that were friends of the family, but I kept forgetting their names. They were all here, seeking protection.

They stuck everyone underage but over the age of three in the backyard. They'd split up the yard – one side for girls, one side for boys. It was like a giant sleepover, and the younger ones, not knowing what was going on, were extremely excited – especially since they were up way past their bedtimes.

You'd think they had sugar or something.

Ugh, I hate kids.

I urged Emily to sleep on one of the couches inside, but she insisted on a sleeping bag. Then she insisted on staying up and helping James, Fred, Lysander, Lorcan, Dom, Scorpius and I in making sure the younger kids went to sleep and were okay and whatnot, but I wouldn't have it. The girl already lost blood and was still inebriated. Eventually, she got tired of arguing with me and dragged her sleeping bag to the edge of the force field, where it was quieter, and fell asleep there.

When did she get so stubborn?

It was well past three in the morning when things began to quiet down and the kids fell asleep. I slipped into my sleeping bag and tossed and turned, but there was always something wrong. There was a rock under me. A stick poking my back. I was uncomfortable. It was too hot. I thought there was a bug in my ear. That sort of thing.

I eventually let myself start thinking.

Big mistake.

How did it come to this? The day started off innocently enough. It was a normal Friday... Emily tried to seduce my in the bathroom... I'd finished most of my work and was pretending to do more so I didn't have to go shopping... Dom took my notebook to make me go shopping... Emily wore that dress.

Fuck. That dress.

_I couldn't believe Dom had just forced me to wear a dress. A _dress. _Is there no end to questioning my gender or sexuality? I'd been forced into enough dresses when I was little, thanks to my mum. I wasn't doing this again._

_What the hell was she yelling at me for, anyway?_

_"This is what – you __get__ – for being – such – a –__douchebag_!"

_"You're insane, you know that?" I bellowed. The dress was pink. What the hell. Get it off, get it off, get it off. "I didn't do anything! You're the one who dragged me over here for three bloody hours!"_

"Did you even

_see__ Emily for the past few days?"_

_Oh, so this is about_ Emily_?_

_Merlin, not again._

_"Of course, I'm bonded to her, remember?"_

She managed to shove the dress over my head, stopping at my shoulders. No. Nononono. "You're being such a jerk."

Oh, come on. I'd gotten better at that!

_"I agreed not to be!" I protested._

_"Well you're not doing a very good job!" She shoved it farther down my shoulders. Shit. "Merlin, everyone can see it! She looks so sad!"_

_Wait._

_She's sad?_

"_Oi, I'm not sad!" Emily protested from somewhere. I couldn't see anything but the pink dress. "Dom, stop it. You're going to rip the dress."_

_I sighed in relief as I felt her hands leave the ends. I let down my guard._

_Another mistake._

"_What the hell!" I shouted as she shoved the dress all the way down. She laughed as I stripped it over my head and threw it at her. "What the bloody hell was that for?"_

"_Weren't you listening?" she said condescendingly. I resisted the urge to hex her face off; thankfully, she'd moved onto observing Emily in whatever slutty clothing she tried next. _

_I heard a mirror whistle. I hated that mirror. _

_I vaguely heard Dom saying, "Damn Al, you were right."_

"_Of course I was," I said distractedly, trying to calm myself down. I'm always right. Obviously. _

_Then I saw Emily, in this orange-ish dress that clung to her body and flowed out around her thigh and she looked so radiant and a little sad but mostly happy and I didn't really understand what Dom was talking about because Emily just looked so comfortable and confident and Merlin I love her._

_Wait._

_What?_

"_Fuck."_

I groaned at the memory and turned over, squishing my face into my pillow.

_I'm not in love with her. I'm _not_. No matter what James and Lily say._

It's what I had to keep repeating to myself all day. After shopping, when I took her to my bridge (I don't care if it's someone else's property, it's mine). When I talked to her for hours, and then at dinner, and _especially _when she was getting ready. Even more so at the club.

_I'm not in love with her._

My mind wandered to dinner. My dad was just there; he had eaten and whatnot, laughed… Then he said he had to go back to the ministry to run an errand, but he'd be back around ten. How did my mum handle it? She had to have gotten worried when he was late. An hour late. Two hours.

And then we got the patronus from Teddy.

I felt a wave of nausea rush over me; I bolted out of my sleeping bag and ran. I made to the chicken coop before I threw up amongst the dung in there. Perhaps I'd had too much to drink. I did beat my record, after all.

"Al?"

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and saw my brother sitting on the picnic table across the yard. I stumbled over there and sat beside him. "Hey, James."

"Stay here, I'll get you some water." I nodded and held my heavy head. Minutes later, a glass of water was shoved under my nose. I drank until it was empty.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he replied. He smirked a little. "You two really need to learn how to drink without getting shitfaced."

I knew he was referring to Emily and I. "Shut up," I retorted, and he chuckled. I drained the glass for last drops of water. "Where did you and Fred run off to, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Went to a pub. Not really into the whole club thing anymore." James sat down again beside me.

"You missed the show," I said. "Lily's got a boyfriend."

"Old news. I beat him up ages ago."

"See, _you're_ the protective one, not me," I grumbled unhappily. "Why did she tell you and not me?"

"I dunno." James shrugged again and reached into the pocket of his pyjamas for his wand and – cigarettes?

"I thought you quit smoking," I said numbly as he took one out of the box.

"I did." He lit the little white stick. I waved the smoke away. "This is for emergencies."

"It doesn't help, you know. It's just an illusion."

"I'm not perfect," he corrected, exhaling the smoke away from me. It twirled around, floating upwards into the night. James turned to me, pleading in his eyes. "Just one, Al."

I shrugged. "Who are you telling, me or yourself?" He didn't say anything. "Come on, James, who am I to stop you?"

"You're my brother."

"Does it matter?" I snorted. "You're one stubborn git."

His lips twitched. "I suppose," he said, inhaling the toxins again. "I thought I was going to get the cancer speech again."

"That's from Lily."

"Right, you never care about anything." James' voice was almost automatic, robotic. I didn't like it. "You don't care, you're not going to do anything about anything and Merlin forbid if anyone touches you."

I looked away. "Things are different now."

"Because of Emily, right?"

"_No._"

"Love changes people," he said quietly. "When it changes you for the better, you'd better stay with that person. They'll be the only one in your life who makes you happy."

"I'm not in love," I mumbled. I pushed my hands through my hair and covered my eyes with my palms. "I'm not in love, okay?"

"Whatever."

"Love is for losers."

"You're worse than a loser, than."

"Yeah, I am," I said quietly, but James didn't hear me.

"Why do you think they took Dad?" he asked, his voice sounding a little raspy. "I thought it was all over, you know? I thought the minister had gone mad, but I never thought…"

"Do you think Voldemort is back?" I asked, feeling a little stupid for asking.

"Doesn't seem logical, from what I've heard." He frowned. "Who's the group in the ministry?"

"Haven't a clue."

There was a moment of silence.

"They won't let me help," James said in a strained voice. He seemed on the verge of tears. "They keep saying I'm too young and not qualified. And I'm not. But still…"

"I want to try, too. I just never had any hope that they'd let me."

"I guess not."

"Who's smoking out here?" We jumped at the sound of Rose's stern voice. She sounded too much like Aunt Hermione. Merlin. Rose waddled over. "I'm pregnant and I don't want that in my baby's system before he's born."

"Not to mention all the second-hand smoke," I said, grabbing James' cigarette and putting it out on the table.

"When'd you get up?" he asked Rose, crossing his arms grumpily.

"About two minutes ago," she answered. "Smoke came through the windows. You'd better stop if you don't want me to throw your fags in the toilet."

James made a face. "I'm going to sleep, anyway," he grumbled, hopping off the bench. "Night."

"Night," we called. I held out my hand and Rose grabbed it, heaving herself up on the table. She wasn't too big yet, but she definitely had a bump. She leaned against my shoulder.

"He?" I asked.

"I'm hoping," she clarified, closing her eyes. "Scorpius wants a girl."

"I'm pretty sure you don't have a choice."

"Smartass," she teased, grinning at me and kissing my cheek. I wiped it off to bug her. "I've missed you."

"Me too," I admitted. "Were you really that angry with me?"

"Well –" She hesitated. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"It's… hard to explain." She fidgeted with her pink robe she loved so much. "It really reminded me of what Scorpius did to me once. And I forgave him, because he honestly didn't know he was doing it."

"He _hurt_ you?"

"Calm down," she said, laughing and pulling on my arm. I didn't realize I'd shot straight up and almost leapt off the bench. "It was a long time ago. Before we got together."

"Oh, when you could cut the sexual tension with a knife."

She blushed. "Shut up."

"It's true!" I said, grinning. "I hated being around you two. It was like you both were prepared to jump each other at any given moment."

"I hate you."

"Love you too." I chuckled. "So what happened?"

"He flirted with me," she said. "A lot. I think you remember that. I thought he was going to ask me out, and he almost did at times, but he chickened out. I learned that later. But I thought he just didn't like me, because the next thing I knew, he was going out with some girl and rubbing it in my face."

"He was trying to make you jealous."

"It sucked." She looked devastated by the thought of it. "I thought he was just stringing me along. I thought I couldn't possibly compare to this girl and that he was just playing with me, getting my hopes up."

"He did that to you?" I asked, my voice hollow. Merlin, girls think a lot.

"Yeah. And it turns out that he was trying to make me jealous, but I hated it, and I told him you couldn't ever do that to someone. It took him forever to get me to trust him again."

I felt my face get hot. "Oh."

"It's not the same, but… it just reminded me of it, Al." I avoided her eyes. "I know you, Al. You're not a bad person, no matter what you think. The fact is that you strung her along and now you're hurting her. Do you really think she'll trust you for that long?"

"But –"

"You want to be with her, Al, I know that." I shifted uncomfortably. "When I see you look at her, I know you don't want friendship. Come on. I stole her best friend, and Scorpius stole yours. You two just fell into place."

"I –"

"And if you really didn't want to be with her – if your heart was into it, if you truly believed you didn't deserve her, you wouldn't have strung her along. You would've left a long time ago."

… _what_?

"How do you know that, Rose?" I burst out. Her eyes widened, and I lowered my voice. "What if I didn't believe I deserve her, but I strung her along anyway? What if I'm just not as good of a person as you think I am?"

"_But you want her_!" she whispered fiercely. I flinched away.

"Doesn't mean I deserve her."

"Al, I _know_ you're a good person. You're conflicted, because you _think _you did something in the past. But you want her, she wants you and you're screwing this up. She's giving you more and more chances. I don't know why."

"Me neither," I said firmly. "She shouldn't. I don't know why she still trusts me. She's already been hurt so much by that – that –"

"Maybe because she believes that everyone makes mistakes," Rose suggested. "It's human. We all make mistakes, and Holly was one of them."

"But what I did to her…" I faltered. "What if I do it again?"

"Is that what you're really afraid of?"

I nodded, looking down to my hands in my lap again. Merlin, _yes_. I was scared. I let that fear consume me. That's why I didn't like to think about these things. I didn't like to admit to being afraid of things, because… well, I wasn't supposed to. I'm male. A Gryffindor. What kind of Gryffindor is afraid of his own thoughts?

… yeah, that was definitely the alcohol talking.

But you know what they say about drunken minds speaking sober truths.

"Al?" I didn't answer her. She nudged my arm. "If you're really afraid of doing to Emily what you did to Holly… well, I'm pretty sure you're getting there."

"What?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"What did you hope to achieve by hurting her?" she asked quietly. "Not hurting her?"

"I…" Crap. "I was hoping to hurt her less if I broke it off."

"Too bad that's not that you did."

"I've been trying to."

"Well, you've failed."

"_Shit._" I dropped my head in my hands. "I'm no good for her, am I? Tell me the truth, Rose?"

"Hmm?"

"What have I done to her?"

Rose shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think I'm the person to tell you."

"But you know _she_ won't tell me…" I trailed off, thinking. "She's told me some. Like how it hurts her that I don't tell her anything, period. Not even the thing with Holly. She…"

"She wants to know you," Rose supplied.

"Yeah."

She sighed. "It's not that you're '_no good for her_.' Honestly. I think you're good for her. Really."

"How?" I asked dully.

"Here's the good and bad news, Al," she announced. "In girl speak."

"Yipee."

"In the past month," she continued, ignoring me, "you have successfully made her feel wanted, loved and believe that she deserves it, just like anyone else. That whatever happened to her before, with her ex – it doesn't matter anymore, and it made her a stronger person."

I lifted my face out of my hands, feeling a little uplifted. "I think that last one was something she figured out by herself."

"Probably. She's a strong girl."

"Yeah."

"But on the flip side," Rose said, "you've turned that upside down. And I _know_ this isn't what you meant to do, but girls…" She paused. "They think a lot. It just seems that what you keep doing seems like she's being lead on, and if she's _okay_ with that –"

"I'm _not_ leading her on."

"I know," she assured, "but it doesn't do much for Emily's self-worth."

A shiver ran down my spine. "Her self-worth?"

"You know." Rose shrugged. "That thing girls tend to deal with. Self-esteem. Thinking she's good enough for you – or anyone, really."

"But…"

"That's why people fear rejection, isn't it?" I looked at Rose, who seemed to thinking hard. About Emily and I, about her and Scorpius – maybe about Dom and Lysander – I didn't know. "Rejection can be like a slap in the face, as in, _you don't have what I want."_

"I've… I've never thought about it that way," I confessed.

"It's a bit more of a girl thing." Rose leaned back and put her hands to her belly. "It's just like taking a chance, like taking a leap of faith. And that's what she did, and it's like you just…"

"Rejected her." And in rejecting her, I did what Rose was talking about – lowered her self-esteem or self-worth or whatever. Which meant that I was responsible for making her feel like shit, when I wanted the opposite. I wanted her to be happy.

I felt squeezing in the bottom of my stomach, tightening and suffocating. Did I do it anyway, though? Did I make her feel what David made her feel? I would never hurt her, or anyone – but had I somehow hurt her anyway? Did I say something?

What if I made her feel like shit? What if she felt like I did a couple of years ago?

Did she?

Fuck.

_What have I_ done?

"But on the up side," Rose said softly, touching my arm, "you also helped her. Remember how she was when you met her?"

"Y – yeah."

"She was stiff and didn't trust you. Or me. Or anyone, really. It was like she was angry at the world. She was kind of mean. I don't doubt she was a good person, but she was just so… different."

I stared at the wood of the bench. "What are you trying to say, Rose?"

"That you _are_ good for her," she said soothingly. "At least, when you're not doing whatever you're doing now. But look at her now. She's not the Emily we met in June. She's opened up to not only you, but our entire family. She's coming to terms with her own strength and… you know." Rose nudged me. "She smiles. And laughs. And it's because of you."

I was shaking. When did I start shaking?

Rose put her arm around my shoulders. "Tell her the truth."

"I can't." I felt and sounded and probably looked pathetic by now. "I don't know how, and this is just all so… _confusing_."

"Start from the beginning." She slipped away from me and eased herself off the table. "Knowing you, you probably haven't told her anything about yourself. And you should."

"Why?"

"So she knows you trust her."

And with that, Rose wobbled back into the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Which was pretty dangerous, if you think about it.

* * *

I wasn't sure if it was alcohol or the fumes from James' fag or just my head spinning from everything that had happened that night, but I found myself dragging my sleeping bag over to where Emily's was. She was fast, her injured leg stretched out and her right leg curled in, her hand clenched in a fist next to her pillow. She looked far from peaceful, but so beautiful.

I slipped into my sleeping bag and faced her. Had I really done everything Rose had said? Had I made her feel like she wasn't deserve me? Bloody hell, if anything, I didn't deserve _her. _I couldn't believe I'd done that to Emily.

And I needed to fix it.

In the time of two months, this girl had snuck her way into my life and found a permanent spot. Rose was right. We'd fell into place because our best friends married each other… and then we married… and fuck everything if Emily hadn't become the closest friend I'd ever had.

Friends were those people you could rely on, right? The ones that knew, just like your parents, when you needed them to listen, when you needed them to shut up, when you felt like shit or when you needed an intervention. They just _knew_. And even if I didn't much about my past, Emily knew my _present._

Didn't that count for anything?

And top of what I did… my dad was still in the ministry somewhere. He said he had to run an errand. What was it? Was there even an errand? Furthermore, who captured him? What were they doing to him? Why did they capture him?

_Is he still alive?_

I let out a quivering breath. Before I knew what I was doing, I shoved my sleeping bag off and found myself slipping into Emily's. She woke up groggily as I nudged her over, moaning.

"Who's there?" she mumbled sleepily, trying to turn over.

"It's just me," I whispered. I turned her so her back was pressed against my chest and her legs were curled into mine and my arms were wrapped around her torso. Emily relaxed and snuggled into me.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmhmm."

"What're you doing?"

"Trying to sleep."

"Al…"

"I'm fine," I burst out, a little louder than I intended to. My voice was wavering. "Really. I am."

She brought my hand to her lips. "You can be weak too, you know. It's okay."

In that moment, a wave of overwhelming emotion and guilt and hurt and worry rushed over me. Merlin, everything was wrong; my dad was my _hero_ and he was in the enemy's (whoever they were) clutches. I seriously hurt the one person I couldn't stand to see hurting. I couldn't help but let the hot liquid seep out of my eyes for the first time in years. I buried my face in her neck and shuddered again.

I was fucking _crying._

Emily didn't say anything. I knew she wasn't sleeping; her hand was stroking mine, which was resting on her hip. She just let me hold her like that, my shaking and uneven breathing and making her neck and the top of her shirt wet and all.

I definitely blame the alcohol.

* * *

Time passed, and my breathing became normal and Emily turned over slowly. She rested her forehead on mine, her eyes peering curiously into mine. She was crying too, but I wasn't quite sure she was entirely aware of it. I closed my eyes as her lips reached my forehead.

"Hey," she whispered. "It's fine."

I nodded and let my now throbbing head lower onto the pillow. I opened my eyes to see Emily reaching for me – slowly, as though I'd flinch away at any moment – her thumb brushing softly against my cheek.

I closed my eyes again.

"I'm so sorry," I breathed. Her thumb stopped moving. "I didn't mean it – I didn't mean to – Merlin, I –"

"Al." I opened my eyes. She was smiling. How was she smiling? "Don't worry about me right now."

"But –"

"Shhhh…" She kissed my forehead again. "You have better things to worry about."

"Don't say that," I said hoarsely. "You – you mean a _lot_ to me."

"But _I'm_ fine, and your dad –" She stopped, probably in fear of saying the wrong thing. "Just focus on that. Don't worry. I'm here."

I nudged her so she'd turn over and I could wrap my arms around her again. I kissed her shoulder. "Thank you. Merlin, I'm so sorry and… I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"Make up for _what_?"

"Everything."

She fell silent.

"Emily," I whispered in her ear. "I'll tell you anything. Just ask me."

She paused and turned around. "Al, who's Leah?"

A second passed before we burst into laughter – then our eyes widened, because seriously – everyone was sleeping. We fell into heaps of silent (or very quiet) laughter. The throbbing in my head slowly ebbed away.

Emily giggled and kissed my nose. "I knew that'd cheer you up."

I watched her laugh. Maybe Rose was right about that part, too. "So… you really don't want to know about the breakup?"

"I think it's unfair of me to ask when you're not ready to tell me." Something in her eyes softened as she pushed me onto my back and snuggled into my side. "Tell me something else."

"Umm…" I racked my brains. "I dunno. You want to start?"

"Are we playing twenty questions?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Sure." I paused, thinking back and screwing my eyes shut. Embarrassment was starting to settle in; my ears were awfully warm and I felt a strong urge to run far away and hide. "I cannot believe I just…"

"Cried?" She grinned and I felt myself shrink under her gaze. "Hey, I don't mind. I won't tell your brother."

"Cheers," I said wearily, staring up at the sky.

I changed the subject. "What happens if it rains?"

"There isn't a cloud in the sky."

"Yeah, but if it does…"

"Then we'll be very wet."

I laughed. "Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"You're very welcome."

"I meant, I wonder if this force field reflects rain…"

Emily shrugged and rested her head on my chest so she could look up at the stars with me. "It's beautiful, either way."

"Am I supposed to do that guy thing and say you're beautiful?"

"After your crying, I'm not quite sure you have to do _any_ guy things."

My face flamed in humiliation. Again. Merlin, she was good at that. "Shut up, Em."

"Don't you feel a bit better about everything after just letting everything out by crying?" she asked sincerely, looking at my red face. I avoided her gaze. "I think that's what I figured out after this past couple of months."

"No," I said quietly, chuckling. "I feel a bit better because I apologized."

"I still don't know what you're apologizing for."

I made a slight jerking motion. "Just, you know. For hurting you."

"I know you didn't mean it."

"Doesn't make it right."

"You…" I looked at her. She was blushing. "You make up for it, you know. It's like going in circles with you. You disappoint me and then do something like… _this._"

"Cry my eyes out like a baby?"

Emily giggled. "I happen to find guys who cry very attractive."

"Ah, bloody hell." She laughed again, and I clenched my eyes shut. A teasing smile fell on my lips. "I'm never living this down."

"Hey, you have a good reason."

I shook my head. "Let's never speak of this again?" I asked hopefully, and Emily lifted her head from my chest to give me an incredulous look. My heart sunk. "Or not."

"Definitely not," she decided, settling back down again. Her hand found mine somehow. "This is perfect blackmailing material."

"You're such a Slytherin."

"You're such a Hufflepuff."

"Hey!" I protested, reaching to her sides to tickle her. "I am _not _a Hufflepuff!" She let out a soft squeal and squirmed around, avoiding my fingers.

"Wait," she whispered, slightly out of breath. "My leg. I just don't want to…"

"Oh." I immediately stopped. "Right."

"Besides, we'd wake everyone up."

"Because you're loud?"

Emily blushed again. I grinned. "Shut up, Al."

She climbed back into my outstretched arms and sighed contentedly. We lay in silence for a few moments, listening to our breathing, not really caring for everyone else in the field.

As far as I was concerned, it was just us there. And the stars.

* * *

"Al? Still awake?"

"Sort of."

"Your glasses are still on."

"Oh yeah."

Emily snuggled into my neck. "What's up?"

I shrugged. Now that Emily had forgiven me (for now… I think she called it 'giving me time' or something), my mind was straying back to my dad, the ministry and all the possibilities in between.

I mean… the minister, I understood. He was causing problems for everyone. But what did my dad do? He was _opposed_ to the ministry's actions, and if they killed Mr. Birch, then why capture my dad? He's on the good side.

Unless they thought my dad was on the bad side.

But what side were the murderers on?

"Al?" Emily nudged me, bringing me out of my thoughts. "What're you thinking?"

I shook my head to clear it. "The fact that you're not hung over."

"I am. A little. My head hurts. But I think whatever your mum gave me cleared most of it." She sighed happily when I shifted to massage her head. "Oh Merlin. Al, you're amazing."

I laughed softly. "I think I'm still a little drunk."

"Obviously, you'd never cry _sober._"

"Shut it." She giggled again and I turned onto my side, bringing Emily against my chest. "You know, we never did play twenty questions."

"We probably should," she said seriously, glancing up at me. "We've got a serious lack of communication problem."

"Then go ahead." I closed my eyes and buried my nose in her hair.

"What were you thinking about, just now?"

I groaned. Emily laughed. "My dad. The ministry. Hoping he's still alive."

"I think he is."

"What makes you think so?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I dunno. Your turn."

"Right." I racked my brain, trying to push aside the fact that Emily thought my dad was alive. Just because. Did she know anything? I doubted it, but… "Uhhh…"

She waited as I thought about something I didn't know about her, but I think she got impatient because she blurted out, "Do you want to know why I kissed you in Rome?"

I was caught off-guard. "Err… because you fancy the pants off of me?"

She laughed. "Yeah, that. And… I mean…" I saw her blush again. She was doing that a lot that night. Not complaining, it was cute. "You know how I wouldn't kiss you before. You know why?"

"Why?"

"It was because… well, when I told you." She kept her gaze away from me. "The whole David thing. I thought you'd be disgusted and hate me. But instead, you kind of… you know. You said I was the strongest person you know."

"Which is true."

"Yeah." She traced against my hands pressed against her waist. "You believed in me. And you still do. I can see it. And I trusted you, and though you haven't exactly given me reason to… I still trust you. Mostly," she added playfully.

I had to smile at that one. "I kissed you 'cause I felt like it."

She laughed.

"I trust you, too." I didn't know where these words were coming from. "I just really suck at showing it. And talking about myself. That's what Rose says, anyway."

"That girl is pretty smart." She glanced around. "Did she tell you to go to sleep? Because it's nearly dawn, and we should've listened to her if she had."

"Nah, she didn't… she _did_ tell James to stop smoking, though."

"He smokes?"

"One of his rebellious phases," I explained. "He started at sixteen to cope with some Quidditch things… some career stuff… I think there was a girl at some point, too. Lily made him stop, she was always good at that."

"I think the use of puppy dog eyes is taking advantage of people."

"Especially around Christmastime," I grumbled.

She laughed.

"Why – _how_ are you so happy?" I asked, lifting one hand from her stomach and twisting my fingers through hers. "None of this is easy for you, either…"

"You're always so strong for me. Whatever I go through." She bent around to kiss the side of my throat. "I figured I could be strong for you, too."

I closed my eyes. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said teasingly. "Maybe we should go to sleep."

"Yeah." _Impossible._ We fell silent for a little while. I watched as the sky become lighter and lighter, the stars fading in the face of the light from the sun. I was suddenly struck with an idea.

"Hey…" I wiggled around and reached for the gold chain around my neck. "Emily. Wait. I want to give you something."

"Hmm?"

"This." She turned around to see me drop my chain into her hand. I gave her a meaningful look. "I want to give you this."

"Ummm…" Emily raised an eyebrow sleepily. "Why?"

"Because I charmed it," I said, almost breathlessly. I turned it over. Right at the clasp, there was a tiny gold button I installed. I pressed it and watched the amazement in Emily's eyes as the clasp expanded, and the next thing she knew, she was holding a thin notebook roughly the size of her hand.

"Al, what…"

"It's everything I've written – well, everything I couldn't bear to ever lose," I added. I flipped it open to the first handwritten page. "It's a lot thicker than it looks. I charmed it to be light. You can pull on the corners to make it bigger, squeeze it to make it smaller. And if you…" I flipped to the table of contents on the second page. "If you're looking for something, you just keep flipping, the pages are kind of endless…"

Emily seemed in awe. "Where did you _get_ this?"

"I made it."

"You _made_ it?"

I felt the back of my neck get hot. "Yeah."

"And…" She flipped though it. "Everything you've ever… handwritten…"

"Stories, I mean," I corrected. "Lots of stories." Emily shut the notebook and held it in her hands. I lay back down and pressed the gold button the corner to let it morph back into the clasp of the necklace. I put it around her neck. Still she held it loosely, staring at it. To me. Then back to the chain.

Emily was speechless.

I finally took off my glasses and closed my eyes, pressing my lips against the back of her neck. Right underneath my chain. "Don't judge too harshly."

She sucked in a deep breath. "How many people have read your stories?"

"No one."

"Merlin, Al…"

"This is who I am," I interrupted quietly, whispering in her ear. "You wanted to know. I guess this is the best way to show you."

"I'm going to be reading all day," she murmured, and I laughed. She finally smiled at me. "Can't believe we stayed up talking until dawn."

I squinted at it. "Can't see the sunrise. Is it nice?"

"It's beautiful. Worth staying up all night. With you."

I smiled.

I waited to voice the question that had been bothering me. Somewhere inside, I didn't really want Emily to answer it. I was afraid of the answer, but I wanted to know – did she keep a grudge? Did she let her bitterness consume her?

"Emily?" She hummed. "Are you glad that minister's dead?"

I felt her body become very still for a few moments before relaxing again. She turned over to bury her head into my chest. I could feel her lips moving at the skin under my t-shirt.

"I will never be thankful for someone else's loss."

Yep.

Emily was definitely the best person I'd ever known.


	34. Albus: The Womanizer

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Albus: The Womanizer**

"Al Al Al Al Al Al AAAAAAAAAAL!"

_Who. Is. _That.

_Better question, are they asking for a death wish?_

I groaned and swatted off tiny hands that were poking my head, pulling my hair, pinching my nose and sticking fingers in my _ear_. Emily moaned beside me, turned away and stuck her head underneath the pillow.

Thanks for the help, Em.

I opened my eyes, almost immediately clenching them shut again against the bright sunlight. See, this is why I don't go camping: the first thing I see in the morning is _sun_, or smell the inside of a sweaty tent; the second thing I see is my seven-year-old cousin Chris on top of me.

I mean, I understand the little guy admires or idolizes me. I'm pretty awesome like that. But does he _have_ to place all his weight on my abdomen? I'm not a bloody body builder, and having a thirty-kilogram boy squeezing the life out of me is not my idea of fun.

Teddy and Victoire really should learn to control their kid.

He shook me again. "_Al_," he whined, "come play!"

Seriously? _Play_? "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's – what time is it?" I demanded, sleepily feeling for my watch in the grass somewhere. _Did I take it off? Did I put it on_?

"It's six-thirty!" He pulled my ear again. "I let you sleep in!"

"You – oh, bloody hell," I groaned again. "I didn't go to sleep until about an hour ago, Chris!"

"Why?"

… shit.

I found Chis' curious brown eyes blinking at me. I could practically see the devil child's brain working furiously. I'm _pretty_ sure no one had corrupted his mind, but here's the thing about Chris – or all little children, really:

They have big mouths.

And I didn't want Chris running around everywhere, telling everyone that I'd been up all night, nonetheless that he found Emily and I in the same sleeping bag. Maybe _he_ didn't understand what it could mean, but everyone else would.

They already joked about it. The last thing I needed was more evidence. And judging by my sexually frustrated self, nothing had happened, so the rumour wasn't even worth it.

Shit.

"Hey, Chris," piped up a sleepy voice from beside me. I watched her blurry figure sit up and pull Chris off of me and in her lap. "I have a mission for you, okay? It's really important."

He bounced up and down, grinning wildly. "Really?"

"Yeah," she said softly, turning to look over her shoulder. "You see all the parents sleeping in tents in the front?"

"Yeah?"

"They _all_ need to be woken up." Emily kissed his cheek. "Can you do that for me?"

He stood up, placing his hand over his heart. His cape flapped wildly and slapped me in the face. I winced. "I promise I will!"

"Good." She paused. "And don't come back for two hours, okay? Al's really worried about his dad, and he couldn't sleep last night."

"Okay!" He bounded off, dodging around sleeping people and tripping slightly on his cape every few steps. Emily laughed and lay back down. I pulled her flush against me, and her hands landed on my chest.

"You're a genius," I muttered, closing my heavy eyelids.

"Nah."

"You're perfect, you know that?" I don't think I was even aware what I was saying. I was too sleepy. I kissed her right under her ear. She shivered. I kissed her again, except lower, along her jaw. "So… bloody… perfect…"

She laughed softly. "Go back to sleep, Al."

"I can, thanks to you." Something in my head began to spin. "Merlin, I'm still drunk."

"If you don't go back to sleep, I'm going to knock you out."

"I'm sleeping, I'm sleeping."

* * *

"_A_l – Merlin, Al, if you don't wake up, I'm going to douse you with the hose!"

My eyes snapped open. Then shut. Too bright. Too loud. Head pounding. Definitely hung over. "Whazzgoinon?"

But then I heard it, loud and clear.

"Where's Emily? I need to check on her leg before I go to work."

"I'm not sure, Mr. Goyle," said my brother, clearly stalling. As though he knew Emily and I were sleeping here. Crap, I'll never hear the end of this. "I'm sure they're somewhere in the back field somewhere."

"Too many bodies," Mr. Goyle joked. "Can't find them."

Emily and I looked at each other.

_Shit._

"Get off me!" she whispered frantically, pushing on my hands off from around her waist. In those thirty seconds, I realized the downside of sharing a sleeping bag. In case you've never done such a thing, let me lay it down for you: your limbs get _really_ tangled.

I'm serious.

We struggled, but that sleeping bag? It's really _not_ made for two. The only reason we both fit was because we were both… you know… pressed against each other. Which was fine with _us._

But with Emily's dad? Not quite.

Every self-respecting, straight male will have many fears in his life, but the number one thing to fear is his girlfriend's father. Or wife's father. Even if the man is a good guy – and they usually are – you will fear him, because fathers will go to any lengths to protect their daughters. Including castration.

So naturally, the fact that Emily wasn't exactly my girlfriend or wife but _still_ sharing a sleeping bag with me… yeah, that couldn't end well. I was as good as dead.

We scrambled around, trying to untangle ourselves – but it really wasn't working. In fact, the sleeping bag was such a tight squeeze that I wasn't sure how I'd made it in there in the first place. It was like a panicked frenzy of untangling ourselves.

And unfortunately enough, it resulted in more tangling, rolling around and ending in Emily falling over and me falling on top of her. Straddling her.

And that's how her dad found us.

"Emily, where – oh."

Shit shit shit _shit_ SHIT.

Mr. Goyle's face turned red. Then purple. Dear Merlin, there was a vein pulsing in neck and looked like it was going to explode. I couldn't help but stare at it, frozen. Emily nudged me. I stared down at her blankly, still in shock, like a deer caught in headlights.

She narrowed her eyes. "Al, get _off._"

I numbly leaned over to unzip the sleeping bag – why didn't I think of that before? – and climbed out and off of her. Mr. Goyle's glare softened slightly when I got away from Emily – but only a little. I grasped around the grass for my glasses and stood up.

"You," he grumbled, pointing to me. "Go wait over there. I'll deal with you in a minute."

Not going to lie – I was terrified.

I stumbled over and sat down a few metres away, holding my head and cursing under my breath. _Damn hangovers. Damn shot contests. Damn Fred. Damn James. But maybe not James, since he just covered for us. _

_Actually, screw that. Damn you, James._

I watched as Emily sat up and stretched her leg out and Mr. Goyle unwrapped the bandage and took a sharp breath, pulling out his wand. He tapped her wound gently a couple of times until her skin was knitting itself back together. He siphoned off the bandage before wrapping back against her leg again, kissing her forehead and letting Emily wrap her arms around him.

"Love you, Dad," she said in a relieved voice. He gave a smile definitely reserved for his daughter. They were close, I could tell.

_Bloody hell, I am _so_ dead._

I tensed as Mr. Goyle walked over to me. I immediately stood, shaking and praying to Merlin that I would live through this. I only sort of valued my life, you know.

"Albus," he greeted when he approached me. I nodded, clenching my fists so he wouldn't see my sweaty palms. I don't think I'd been so nervous in a while… maybe that date in Rome. I was nervous then. But than I drank a little, so I was fine.

_Ooh, definitely not drinking now. So hung over._

"Let's walk, shall we?" I nodded again, stumbling beside him. He didn't seem to want to be overheard by Emily. Didn't matter, I was going to tell her anyway.

I think.

"So, _Al_," he began, emphasizing my nickname and surveying me. I looked up at him; I hated when people were taller than me. Mr. Goyle was still holding his wand, and twirling it around in his hands. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

I blinked. "_What_?"

He stopped to look at me properly, his arms crossing against his chest. "What are your intentions with my daughter?" I'd never answered this question before. Mr. Birch was always too busy to meet me when I dated Holly. I never had another serious girlfriend.

I swallowed thickly. "I – uhh. Nothing."

Wrong thing to say.

He raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Really?"

"Uhhh…" I shook my head, trying to clear the pounding. "I mean… like… uhh… I'll never hurt her on purpose."

"Oh, so only by accident?"

Shit. "No! I mean, yes, but…" If it wasn't obvious before, I'm sure the sweat stains growing around my armpits gave away my nerves. I took a deep breath. "I mean… I'll take care of her and shit – shoot – stuff. That's what I meant. Take care of her and _stuff._"

Definitely blabbering.

Mr. Goyle surveyed me for a little longer as I sweat. Finally, just when I thought he was going to point that wand at me and make me explode into a million pieces, he chuckled (CHUCKLED?), shook his head and put his wand away.

Well.

Whaddya know.

"I believe you, kid," he said, outright laughing, now. He put his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "I know you won't hurt her. Especially not on purpose. But either way, if you do, you'll regret it. Got it?"

I nodded furiously.

He laughed again and walked away, probably to go to work. Only when he turned the corner and disappeared, I let out my breath. I didn't even know I was holding my breath. I made my way back to Emily, who had been watching with a smile on her face.

Never mind, the bitch was laughing at me.

"Shut up," I grumbled, pushing her off the sleeping bag so I could climb in. Just before I zipped it shut, she slipped in beside me. "I thought he was going to whip my ass."

"He probably will, if he finds us like that again."

"Well, now he's gone." She nodded and gasped as I ran my hands over her knee, on top of her wound. "How's it feeling?"

"Better," she said quietly. She turned to look at me as my hands slid higher up her thigh, smirking at me. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing," I said, smiling innocently.

"Doesn't seem like nothing."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Al, stop trying to grope me, or I'll call my dad back here." I laughed and brought my hands back around her waist. Emily dug her forehead into my chest, smiling. "You know what amazes me about all this?"

"What?"

"That we were stuck together for a total of a _week_, and we didn't murder each other."

"I don't think you could ever murder a face like mine, Emily."

She laughed. "Maybe we should go back to sleep."

"Mmhmm."

"If you don't stop taking everything I say inappropriately, I will smack you."

"Fine, fine."

Merlin, could she read my mind or something?

* * *

"Al?"

I groaned. "What _now_?"

Emily snorted and nudged my shoulder again. When did she get out of the sleeping bag? "I have something for your head. Your mum gave me a potion."

I sat up and groaned again. "Good thinking, thanks," I grunted, taking the flask and drinking deeply. As I drank, the pain slowly ebbed away, leaving a heaviness caused only by lack of sleep. Emily snuck back into the sleeping bag and rested her head in my lap. "When'd you get this?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, yawning. "So I went inside to get something for you."

I carefully lay back down, shifting so that Emily head rested on the pillow instead. "Why? You okay?"

"I'm all right." Emily yawned again. I felt a compelling urge to yawn as well.

"What time is it?"

"Around nine-thirty."

I glanced around. "Where's Chris?"

"Grounded," she sniggered. "As if it matters, he's only allowed on this property anyway. He got punished for invading all the tents this morning, and no one would listen when he said I told him to do it. He's eating breakfast now."

I laughed. "Good. I want to sleep all day."

"I wish I could." She closed her eyes. "I feel drugged. And so tired."

I let out a long breath as we fell silent. Her chest moved against mine, her breathing slowly becoming slower and deeper. She didn't look like she was sleeping, though – just really relaxed.

Guilt began to settle in the pit of my stomach again. I still didn't feel like I deserved her.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I burst out in a whisper.

"Not hungry," she answered sleepily.

"Just tell me."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "The only foods I know how to make are pancakes and toast." She hummed in response. "Emily?"

"Later." She smiled, her eyes still closed but crinkling. "But I'm definitely taking you up on that."

I cheered up slightly – even though I probably couldn't make it up to her with _pancakes,_ it was a start! – and we fell silent again.

A little while later, Emily spoke again. Very quietly, letting her breath brush against my neck. "Al? I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"But I'm afraid it's a little personal."

"Okay."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Very tightly. "Are you really not a virgin?"

"… oh."

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

I let out another long breath, thinking hard. Did I really want to tell her? It wasn't that I was afraid of telling her, or that it was too personal… I wasn't ashamed, either. Not being a virgin wasn't a big deal to me. I just wasn't sure how she'd take it.

"Tell you what," I said after a little while. "I'll tell you if you tell me something about yourself."

"Like what?"

I grinned at her. "Something very scandalous that no one knows about."

She laughed softly, and her breath whispered across my skin again. I didn't know why it felt so good. "Something very scandalous that no one knows about, hmm?" Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "What about the tattoo artist? She knows."

My eyes shot open, widening to impossible sizes. "You have a _tattoo_?"

"Yup."

"As in a muggle, real, needle on skin, _permanent_ tattoo?"

"Yeah."

"No way," I breathed. _Holy crap_. "What is it? Where is it? Can I see?"

She shrugged and grinned mischievously. "Let's just say I demanded the tattoo artist be a girl, since no guy would ever see the place on my leg where I got it." She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Except – _maybe_ – you. And then you can see what it is."

I groaned, pulling her back against me. "That is so hot."

She giggled as I kissed her neck. "Come on, then, fess up. You're not a virgin, are you?"

I paused, lifting my lips from her skin to look at her.

"Does it bother you?" I asked nervously.

Emily shrugged, closing her eyes and snuggling back into me. "I'll let you know."

* * *

"No. Absolutely not."

"But –"

"It's not even an option."

"But I –"

"Albus, no means _no._"

"This isn't fair!" I burst out loudly, attracting the attention of some sleepy-looking aurors at the dining table. I ignored them; my mum was tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed in front of her and glancing at the stove every now and then to make sure lunch wasn't burning. "I don't want to sit here and do nothing, I want to _help._"

"For the millionth time, Albus, it's _too dangerous!_" She let her arms go and grabbed a rag to scrub the counter. Which pissed me off. She could just point her wand at it, and it would be clean. "I'm not letting James go, either. Both of you are too young."

"We're of age!"

"Your father is _well_ over age, and look where that got him!"

I pressed my mouth tightly in a line. "How old were you when you fought at the ministry?"

She spun back around, still holding the ratty cloth. "That was different."

"In what way?"

"My mum didn't know I was going."

"Well, that settles things," I said sarcastically. "Hey mum, can you forget this entire conversation and let us sneak out later?"

She laughed – _laughed! _Can you believe her? – and brought me in her arms. I kept stiff and unrelenting. Plus, there were a lot of people around that I really didn't know, and the last thing I wanted was for anyone to think I was a momma's boy.

Of course, that hug pretty much sealed the deal.

Crap.

She didn't seem to notice, but I didn't really care – it wasn't the pressing subject, here. The fact of the matter was that she was refusing to let James and I help Teddy and the other aurors because we were too _young._ It's true, we were also unqualified – neither of us were aurors – but it wasn't as though we would just stand there. We could do something.

If anything, it would make us feel like we were useful.

"Albus, I just don't want you getting caught up in this. You too, James," she called over my shoulder, where my brother was leaning against the wall and watching. "You have to pick your battles."

"This is a pretty good one, Mum," I tried to reason.

"Not for you." She squeezed me one last time and turned back to the stove. I sighed and James came up behind me, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

"You gave it your best shot," he said, trying to cheer me up.

"You did, too." He'd been pulling mum's leg all morning – I'd only just taken over. I sighed again as we headed back outside. "I guess there's no chance of sneaking out of this force field, is there?"

"Nope," he said morosely. "But on the other hand, there haven't been any attacks since they got Dad. Teddy says that it might've been because there were aurors surrounding the place, but if they've got the entire place on lockdown…"

"There must be a way in and out," I said reasonably. "But if they've got dad, and he's Head Auror…"

"They've got to be pretty amazing to keep the place locked up."

"Maybe they're doing magic we don't know of," I suggested thoughtfully. "Dark magic, maybe. They might've created some spells – but we can probably figure out the counter-curses if we detect the origin." I paused. "Shit, we don't even know who these people are."

James paused as his hand rested on the doorknob to the backyard. "I always forget you're a fucking genius, you know that?"

I rolled my eyes.

"No, seriously!" he exclaimed, flinging the door open. "You never show it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, looking around. It was noon, and by this time, most of the yard had been cleared of sleeping bags – they were stacked in a corner – and the picnic benches had been expanded in the middle of the yard. Kids were playing and running everywhere.

My stomach growled. "I'm hungry."

James sighed impatiently. "Al."

"Right. Pressing matters." I turned back to him. "Teddy said there weren't any attacks, right? Do you think we'll probably leave soon, then?"

"Yes, we're planning to go home tonight, and aurors are setting up in every town," he said quickly, "but –"

"So just a few more hours of this hell." I shrugged. "Want to go back and get some food?"

James ignored my feeble attempts to change the subject. "Al, come on, you know what I'm talking about. You never _use_ your brains. You could've been the best auror out there – even better than Dad."

I really didn't want to have this conversation. "What're you getting at, James?"

He sat down on the tabletop of the bench. He looked like he wanted to say something – something I knew he'd been keeping in for a long time, but never said it when it mattered. "You got accepted at every program without applying to any of them, and it wasn't because of Dad. They saw your N.E.W.T. papers. You could've done something great."

I felt my tips of my ears grow hot. "I want to be a writer."

"But –"

"Writers can do great things, okay?" I interrupted, trying to ignore the sensation in my stomach. "They're responsible for recording the events of the world_._ They bring out emotions in people. They create a world – so when someone's being bullied, they have a place to escape to. That's important, too."

James stared at me for a long while. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but I had a feeling it had something to do with how he thought I was wasting my talent in writing. Like it wasn't important enough. That what I really loved to do didn't matter.

In the end, he gave in.

"Whatever," he spat distastefully.

"Piss off, James," I muttered, pushing myself off the bench.

I went back inside, kicking the door open and murmuring under my breath. My parents had never been ones to push me towards something I didn't want to do. It was as though my brother had taken that role. I suspected he was jealous – he barely passed his N.E.W.T's – but I hadn't _asked_ for my brains. Spells and potions… they just came easy to me. Writing was a challenge I enjoyed.

Most of the time, I wished my brother had my brains so there wouldn't be that tenseness between us, but I liked to think we were still close. That we were beyond that. He just pissed me off sometimes, because it felt so condescending.

I made my way through the crowded house, grabbed some spare parchment and a quill and sat at a table in front of a tall, dark-haired guy. I didn't know who it was, but when I sat, he immediately turned to me.

"Adam Finnegan," he said, holding out his hand. "We went to Hogwarts together."

"Yeah… you were in Hufflepuff, right?" I asked, putting down my stationary and shaking his hand. "Al Potter."

"Everyone knows who you are," he said bluntly. I snorted in agreement. "Say, it's not _me_ who's the, 'Blasted prick who should keep his jealous fucking nose out of other people's decisions', am I?"

"No," I said gloomily. "That'd be my brother."

"Ah." He paused. "I don't have any siblings."

"Lucky you." He laughed. "So, are you a friend of the family?" I asked, picking up my parchment. "I don't remember you coming 'round for dinner."

"My father and your father shared a dormitory at Hogwarts," he said. "We live a little far away, but when we heard about your dad, we came over straight away. Your mum offered my family a place to stay for a couple of days." I nodded. He watched as I unscrewed the lid of my inkbottle and began to write. "What are you writing?"

"A letter to the _Prophet._" I bit my lip, thinking of my next few words. "I'm going to resign."

His eyes bulged out. "You work at the _Prophet_? As a journalist?"

"Used to," I said absent-mindedly.

"Bloody hell, you must be good," he said, voice full of awe. "I've been pushing for an internship there for ages. I finally got an interview last time, but I didn't get in."

"I wouldn't work there when the ministry's mad, they control every word you say." Suddenly, my head snapped up in realization, eyes widening at Adam. "Wait, you write?"

"Hell yes."

"Shit, mate. Let me read something." He grinned and took a piece of parchment from my stack and plucked the quill from my hand.

"Pick a topic," he said.

"A topic?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded. I searched around the room, thinking of something. My eyes fell on the clock on the wall. "Time," I said, turning back to him.

He immediately furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, staring hard at the parchment. His expression cleared as he began to scribble. In that moment, Adam had transferred into another world. I watched as he wrote out a short poem.

On the spot.

"Here," he said a couple of minutes later, tossing it at me. "Not my best, but it's something."

'_The ticking clock stirs_

_In the midst of_

_Empty,_

_Yet fluttering minds._

_Marking the beginning_

_Of every day life,_

_Marking the end_

_Of absolutely nothing at all.'_

I glanced up. "This is amazing. I can't write poetry for shit."

He grinned and took it back, folding it multiple times before shoving it in his pocket. "I write everything. Poetry, stories, articles…"

"So do I, but I've got my weaknesses," I said, laughing. "I do better with short stories, but I've written one novel."

"Wow, a novel? When'd you finish it?"

"A couple of weeks ago, actually –"

"There you are!" said a voice in my ear, causing me to jump. I swivelled around to see Emily slide into the chair next to mine; her hair was still damp from the shower, and she was holding a plate of food. Funny, I forgot how hungry I was. I slid an arm around her waist to bring her closer. "This place is crazy, there are people everywhere."

"But none are more beautiful than you."

My gaze snapped to Adam; he was making a weird face at Emily – somewhere in between a smirk and a smile – and raising his eyebrows at her suggestively. His voice had become very deep. I instantly wanted to take my quill and stab him with it. Repeatedly and thoroughly.

Was he _hitting_ on her?

To my dismay, Emily blushed. He reached across the table to grasp her hand and kiss it, like those douche-y men did in the old days. "I'm Adam. And you are?"

"Emily."

I could've _sworn_ she smirked at me when I tightened my grip on her waist. I hoped with all my might and the wonky feelings in my stomach that she didn't flirt back, because I probably would've done something embarrassing. Like drag her out of the room and snogged her until she forgot all about Adam and his stupid tall, dark and handsome shit girls love.

Don't worry, I restrained myself.

"So, Al," he said, suddenly changing back to speaking normally. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I read something of yours?"

"Depends," I told him loftily, still pissed off at his stunt. I grabbed a carrot off Emily's plate. "How much do you like reading fillers?"

"What?"

"That's what they made me write, mostly," I said, shrugging. "Except for that last article I wrote before the minister died. Wasn't really a great job, but it was a start."

"Oh, so you didn't have a column."

"Nah."

"But what about your stories?" he asked curiously.

Shit.

"Stop eating off my plate," Emily chastised playfully (and a little hastily), slapping my hand away. I grinned and ducked around her for more. "Al!"

"Fine," I decided dramatically, finishing off another one of her carrots. "If I have to go _all_ the way to the kitchen…"

"I'm sure you'll live, Al."

I grinned and kissed the side of her head. Adam politely looked away. Yeah, that's right, she's _my _wife. Err. Girl. That's right. She's my girl.

Take that.

"Coming?" I asked him as I stood. He followed me to the kitchen; as soon as we were out of the dining room, he clapped a hand to my shoulder.

"Don't worry, mate," he said, sniggering. "I'd never go after her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He suddenly grabbed at Molly, who was passing by. She gasped as he took her hand, kissing it and giving her the same flirty-face he'd given Emily. "Girl, you _must_ be magical, because I've fallen under your spell."

_Oh._

As he let her go and continued on his way, he rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Potter, you have a _lot_ of female cousins, hot _damn!_"

I must've peed myself laughing.

I think I could be friends with this git.

* * *

Emily had disappeared somewhere.

But that was okay. It's not like I only talked to her, right? It's not as though I spent nearly every waking moment with her for past two months. No, I definitely had a life of my own and still thought like a normal teenage boy who could sit in his underwear all day and fart whenever he wanted to.

Shit, I really needed to start hanging out with the guys again.

I was sitting with Adam at lunch, but he'd gone off to – surprise, surprise – hit on whoever he could find. Rose and Malfoy are sickening to be around – that, or highly entertaining. I particularly liked when Rose started going all mood-swingy and hitting Malfoy, but for the most part, they were dry humping.

I couldn't believe _Malfoy_ was getting more action than me.

But I suppose that's my own fault.

So there I was outside the house, nursing my hand from the owl that pecked me when I gave it my resignation letter (the family owl – Hedwig II – is vicious. She hates me) and trying to ignore my constant sexual frustration when something hit the back of my head.

Hard.

_Ouch._

"Oi, Al!" Adam called as I swore under my breath. I turned to see that a Quaffle had banged the back of my head, and James – who else, really? – had thrown it. He and Fred were standing further away as Adam jogged towards me. "Up for Quidditch?" he asked when he reached me.

"Do I have to get hit with a Quaffle again?" I grumbled.

"Sorry about that." Adam picked it up off the ground and tucked it underneath his arm. "Err, before we play… are you the protective type? I mean, in terms of your cousins?"

I groaned. "What'd you do?"

He slung an arm across my shoulders. "Mate, you know me so well already."

"I know you're an asshole."

"Too true."

"Come on, Adam, you're making me nervous," I said, shrugging his shoulder off. James and Fred were waiting, probably wondering why we were still talking and not playing Quidditch. "What happened?"

And then – get this – he began to get this strange look on his face – but it was a different look than before. His other expression was smirking and smug with this creepy smile and low voice. This time, all his features slackened and he stared off into the difference, a goofy smile spreading across his face. I'm ninety-nine percent sure his voice actually got _higher._

"I think I'm in _love_," he announced loudly.

My eyes widened. "Oi, shut up," I said immediately, pushing him further from James and Fred. "Someone might hear you."

"But I want to tell _everyone_, Al!" he shouted. I winced. He was full-on grinning now, becoming louder with every word. "I want everyone to know that I have met a _goddess_, in the form of Dominique Weasley!"

"Seriously, shut up," I muttered, clenching my eyes shut. "I thought you hit on every girl you meet."

"I do!" he exclaimed proudly. "But I've never gone out with any of them."

"_Why_?"

"I'm holding out for the perfect woman," he said tenderly, "and now I've found her."

I started laughing, and he looked outraged. "You can't be serious," I said through chuckles. "Dom's been in love with Lysander for the past… I don't even know. And they've been dating for years."

"Well, not anymore," he said over my laughter. "They broke up."

That shut me up.

"Since when?"

"I dunno," he said, shrugging and gripping the Quaffle in his hands. He tossed it into the air. "She's been crying for a couple of hours, now."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Shit. When Dom's upset… you _really_ don't want to be around her."

"Why?"

I smirked. If this didn't put Adam off Dom, nothing would. "Well, first off, she cries. A lot. And when Dom cries, she needs to be comforted with hugs and ice cream. Usually Victoire or Rose takes care of that, but since they're both married, she won't want to see them. She'll insist on seeing someone who's single so she can share her misery. She will throw a fit every time something doesn't go her way, drag the first person she sees shopping. For hours."

Adam blinked at me. "Sounds like you've been a victim."

"Too many times, mate," I said solemnly. "But not the last one. She'll demand a girl's night for every single girl in the family. Thank Merlin she's never dragged me to one of those – Adam?"

He suddenly looked very gleeful. Out of the wide range of expressions I've seen on Adam, I'd have to say this one was the scariest. I backed a couple of steps from the newfound clown; if he bared his teeth, I was ready to run.

(I am _slightly_ afraid of clowns. Shush.)

"A girl's night?" he said happily, looking as though all his dreams had come true. "Al, we have to go. We're spying on them."

I groaned again. "What the hell? I don't want to spy on my cousins doing girly stuff!"

"Well, it's not as if I could speak to her on person," he said reasonably.

"Wait, you haven't hit on her?"

"Hell no!" He tossed the Quaffle towards James and Fred, who looked quite pissed off at being forgotten. Adam turned back to me, entirely serious (and _way_ too happy). "I need you to be my wingman."

"We're not going to a bar," I protested.

"Don't you want to see Emily in her pyjamas?"

"Been there, done that." But even in that, I realized with a jolt that she'd be there.

"Come on, Al," he said convincingly. There was a glint in his eye that I didn't like. That he'd found my weakness. _Dammit._ "Wouldn't you like to have an excuse to stare at her all night?"

Okay, first off: that's creepy.

Second: I could do that _anyway. _We shared a sleeping bag, for Merlin's sake.

(But we wouldn't if she was at girl's night, would we?)

Adam grinned. Screw him. He couldn't just say a few words about Emily and make me go crash a stupid girl's night just so he wouldn't be alone. I was _not_ going to be a creeper. There was no chance, none at all –

"I bet she looks sexy in pyjamas."

"Eyes off," I snapped immediately. And I knew I was falling into his trap, but I couldn't help myself. "And hands, for that matter."

He sighed theatrically, taking his time to fill his lungs and . "I can't just promise to keep my hands off such a stunning girl," he said dramatically. "I mean, Dom is the love of my life – but she's still unavailable. Who knows what could happen?"

He. Did. _Not._

His grin was becoming even more pronounced as he finally headed towards James and Fred. I was seething when he glanced back, calling over his shoulder, "Let's play, Al. I need you on my team, I suck at Quidditch."

I groaned. Again.

Fuck everything.


	35. Albus: The Tree

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Albus: The Tree**

I really hated climbing trees.

Usually when someone says that, it's because they can't climb trees. And normally, I'll admit I can't. I have bad footing one hundred percent of the time, and I get nervous, which makes my hands sweaty, which means they're slippery, so they tend to… you know… _slip._

But I can still climb trees. I have magic powers. Whoosh.

The only reason I'm climbing a tree in the first place is because when I was playing Quidditch with James, Fred and Adam (he was right, by the way – he _does _suck), I finally spotted Emily. In a tree. Sitting in the middle nook and reading my notebook.

And since the Quidditch game sucked balls, I decided to go up there.

The nook was kind of an enclosed, secluded space. There was a flat space where the trunk was, fitting maybe one, one and a half people and then huge branches spreading out from that one spot. I could barely see her - which meant the guys wouldn't be able to see me.

Perfect.

As soon as the others had their backs turned, I urged my broom (and by _my_ broom, I mean the sorry excuse for a broom my family kept in their shed. A Nimbus or something) towards the tree, slipping in between the leaves. I swung my legs off the broom, placed it on between some branches so it wouldn't fall, and climbed down the tree. Slowly and quietly as possible, until I was right behind her and I could smell the shampoo-y smell in her hair.

"Boo!"

"Ahh!" She squealed and jerked out of place, but I slid my arms around her to keep her from falling. She sighed in relief when she saw it was me. "Bloody hell, Al, what are you doing?"

"Hiding." I moved her forwards and sat in her place so that she was sitting in my lap. "What are doing up here?"

"I'm hiding, too," she said contentedly, marking her place in the book with a fold of the page and shutting it. She leaned back to nuzzle my neck. "Did you know that my childhood haven was a tree house?"

"Really?" I thought back. "You never told me that."

"Yeah, I loved that place. Kind of like your bridge, but my parents knew about it." I laughed. She sighed again. "Dom's on a rampage."

"I heard."

"Lysander broke up with her very publicly," she said, her breath brushing across my neck. "She's devastated, and quite possibly going insane. I'm kind of surprised, I thought she was the kind of person who everything together."

"Not when it comes to Lysander."

"So why are you hiding?"

"I've never see Adam play Quidditch before," I groaned, closing my eyes and letting my cheek rest against the top of her head. "He can't even throw a Quaffle right."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "In terms of aim, you mean?"

I was momentarily confused, until I remembered that Emily had played Quidditch at Hogwarts, as well. I was slightly cheered up by this fact – I mean, I had a wife/girlfriend/person who can actually discuss Quidditch with me!

I knew she was perfect.

"As in, he can't even hold it properly," I clarified, smiling.

She laughed. "Damn. That's the easiest part!"

"I just won't get started on his coordination."

"And from the looks of it, he can barely fly."

"How'd you know?" I asked curiously, lifting my head to look at her. She blushed. I grinned wickedly. "Were you… _spying_ on us?"

"Yes," she mumbled, her face burning against my neck. "And I wish you were sweatier right now. And not wearing a shirt."

_Did she just…_

_Okay, I seriously have to stop taking her flirting by surprise._

I'd pretty much decided that I was going to stop pushing Emily away. Rose was right; I wasn't being fair, and as long as I was physically around Emily, I couldn't seem to help… you know. Touching her. Laughing with her. And she was bloody good at making me want her.

But while I was no longer pushing her away, I still couldn't just ignore that… thing. The reason I was pushing her away. _That_ was something that tore me apart, and because what I did to Emily reminded me so much of it, I just felt like I'd been ripped in half entirely. Like paper.

(But I still wanted her.)

Emily had laughed at my shocked expression, planted a kiss on my slightly sweaty neck and pushed her hands underneath my t-shirt.

(Badly.)

So instead of pushing her away, I'd decided there wasn't a point. If we wanted to get over each other, we'd have to strictly stay away from one another. Which was not going to happen. It'd be like a gaping hole in my life, and I'd pretty much accepted that by then.

As in – who would I talk to? Pregnant, crazy Rose? Fred, who had a job and his own life with Ryan? James – Merlin, no. Lily – my younger sister, and that's just pathetic. Dom would probably make me go shopping, and at the moment, she was heartbroken. I didn't want to think about talking to Scorpius. Maybe Adam – but I felt like I'd have to punch him a lot. It's not the same.

(There are things I'd like to do to Emily, and punching is not one of them.)

I supposed that if I really wanted to pursue something... you know, like an actual relationship... and I _did_ want to... then I couldn't very well push her away. If I wanted her to forgive me for what I did, I had to make up for it. And in the future, when I didn't feel like throwing up every time I thought about, when I told her, I'd want her to forgive me for what I did two years ago. Trust me not to do it again, even if I didn't trust myself. I wasn't going to get her trust if I kept acting the way I did.

Either way, Emily didn't deserve that.

"Hey," she said gently. Her hand was still rubbing circles on my waist. She really had to stop doing that. "What're you thinking?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. I didn't know how to tell her I wanted something real with her. What would I say?

"Nothing, huh?" she teased.

"Nah." I smiled at her and reached behind her to run my fingers through her hair. "What're you thinking?"

"That I narrowly escaped Dom," she joked. I laughed. "You should've seen it, through," she continued, a little more seriously. "I actually feel bad for her. He dumped her in front of Lily, Lorcan, Molly and Roxanne. He said she was too clingy and happy and that he needed to be his own man, be more independent and –"

"Alone?"

She laughed. "Essentially."

"I can't believe he'd be so dramatic," I said, shaking my head. "Then again, it's Lysander."

"I guess. I just couldn't believe he'd said all those things, and she just stood there and _took it," _she said sadly, leaning into my hand at the back of her head. "She's stronger than that. She grabbed me and dragged me away when I was putting away my plate. Really heartbroken. Thinks it was her fault."

"But Lysander can be a douche sometimes."

"I think… maybe… he got used to not having her around." Emily bit her lip, and I kept myself from groaning. "They had a long distance relationship for a year. Dom can be a little overbearing sometimes."

"I suppose."

"You don't care, do you?"

"Not really," I admitted, and she giggled. "Girl talk isn't my forte."

"Suppose not."

"But I can tell you that Adam's fallen in love with her," I added, remembering. "He hasn't even talked to her."

"Does he really?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Yup. He wants to crash your girl's night, and he's making me come with him."

"Is he?" She was suddenly smirking. Very suspiciously.

"Yes," I said nervously, narrowing my eyes. "He's an asshole. I'd stay away from him, if I were you."

She didn't say anything, but kept smirking as she took her off the chain and struggled to press the tiny button. I didn't know what she was planning in that Slytherin mind of hers, but as long as it didn't have to do with Adam, I was okay with it.

I think.

"So, I read a bit of this," she said, settling back in my arms and flipping the book open. She kept flipping, keeping her thumb still and letting the pages slip past her fingers. It was a two-hundred page notebook – to a muggle. For us, it flipped on forever. Emily shut it again and looked at me. "I can't figure out how you transfigured this book."

I shrugged, my heart thudding from nerves. I was more nervous of what she thought of the content.

"Al?" she asked. "Why do you think Wolfsbane gives off blue smoke?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Just answer the question."

"Errr…" I thought about everything I knew about potions. "Let's see… probably because of its main ingredient – monkshood, right? – and the way it reacts with…" And I went on to explain my educated, but very blind guess. I just knew some random stuff about ingredients and werewolves. I felt like an idiot.

After I finished, she smiled at me.

"You know that's a third year question for Healers, right?" she asked casually. "I read it the other night in one of my textbooks."

The tips of my ears turned hot. "Really?"

"And you just got it right." That smirk was back. It was going to be the death of me.

"Oh." I cleared my throat. _Dammit._ I knew I had to tell her sometime about my brains, but how do you just tell someone? _'Hey, I got you some juice, by the way, your Healing school accepted me, full scholarship, even though I hadn't applied. Surprise!"_

Luckily for me, she'd figured it out on her own.

"So why'd you leave Dom all broken hearted?" I blurted out. _Change subject. Please change the subject. _I hated talking about this, much less myself. Emily seemed to understand exactly what was going on.

"She didn't want me around," she said. "She just needed to vent, but then started going on about how perfect my love life is." Emily snorted and opened my notebook again, and I was left wondering: _what's wrong with it?_

_Oh, right._

_Me._

"I want to talk to you about this story," Emily said, her voice suddenly much quieter. My nerves seemed to jump alive again as my fingers untangled from her hair and gripped the book. She leaned back onto my chest. "Read it."

"Umm… you mean… _out loud_?"

"Yes." She closed her eyes.

"I… okay…" I cleared my throat and began to read.

_The star gives himself to loneliness._

_He needs no one, and he is content._

_Other stars love predictability – to hear exactly what they want to hear._

_The star knew that._

_And even then, he couldn't help being jealous that everyone could see him._

_Everyone could see the stars in the sky, but he couldn't find his own parents._

My heart slowed as I finished. I'd never read my work out loud before. I don't think I breathed the entire time I was reading, and I was still holding my breath. Emily shut the book, pressed the button, placed the chain back around her neck and reached for my hand. I exhaled as her fingers traced the palm of my hand, breathing deeply how amazingly sweet and amazing she smelled, mixed with the fresh smell of wood and leaves.

"I love your voice," she said softly, blushing. "Especially when you're reading out loud. You sometimes speak out loud when you're writing."

"I do?" I was sure my face was the colour of tomatoes by now.

"Yeah."

"I love when you sing in the shower," I blurted out.

She began laughing. "Merlin, that's embarrassing," she said. "You could hear me?"

"Yeah." She stopped tracing shapes on my hand and slipped her fingers between mine. "Your voice is really soothing."

"Thanks." She sighed and shifted her gaze to my face. "This story… it's about your childhood, isn't it?"

Something inside my chest closed up. "No."

"You're lying."

"How can you tell?"

"Your voice just gets all… weird," she decided, and I laughed. "Okay, shush. I'm not a writer like you." I kept laughing. "I still know when you're lying or not."

That shut up me up.

"So," she continued triumphantly, "explain this story."

"Do I have to?" I whined childishly, and she giggled again. She kissed my neck as I cleared my throat. I reached around to bring her closer. "Okay. Yeah, it's about my childhood."

"When did you write it?" she asked.

"On my tenth birthday," I said quietly, fiddling with the fold at the bottom of her shorts. Her skin was really soft. "My parents had to go to work for some important meeting. They promised they'd be back for dinner, but they came when I fell asleep." I avoided her eyes. "It was October, so James was at Hogwarts. Lily always just went to read in her room. I had a bad day at muggle school. I felt bad, and the story just came out."

Emily shifted out of my grasp and turned around, so she was sitting cross-legged on my legs. Her forehead rested on mine, her arms sliding around the back of my neck. Still, I kept my eyes down. "Al, they love you."

"I know." Could she tell I still felt bad about my birthday from eight years ago? I thought I would've gotten over it by now.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Her breath was brushing against my lips now. "Was most of your childhood like that?"

"No – I mean, sort of." I shrugged. "But my parents never liked it. It was just a part of life, and they had no choice but to comply. It's not as though they were never a part of my life – mostly, they were around," I clarified. "We had dinner every night and shit. But James was a difficult child, and he took a lot of the attention."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah." I still avoided her gaze. My hands slid up Emily's legs, my right hand brushing on her bandage. "He always craved a lot of attention when he was little. He didn't want to go to muggle school. We fought a lot. The last few years were the worst."

"What happened?"

"He caved under the pressure," I explained. "He was never a very good student, and it was all catching up. He barely passed his O.W.L.'s, he was Quidditch Captain, he didn't want to study for his N.E.W.T.'s and he and Dad just kept getting into arguments. Dad always encouraged James' Quidditch dream, but he wanted him to do well in school, but James just wasn't okay. He was going crazy.

"Remember how I told you James' smoked?" I asked, still not looking at her. Emily nodded. "He started because of all the pressure. He started doing some drugs during the holidays, and he didn't come home much. He drank a lot. He was just making all the wrong choices."

"Why?" she whispered.

"I think there was a girl," I said, chuckling. "There always is. I don't know those details, and I think there was more. But in the middle of seventh year, he wasn't going to classes anymore. He didn't have practice. He wasn't even eating. He was seriously depressed. So he and my dad had a long talk."

"About what?"

"I dunno." I shrugged. "But after that, James got his act together, quit smoking, quit drugs… everything. He's gone through a lot. I'm glad the press has no idea."

"Me too." Emily was still trying to catch my gaze. "Stop talking about your brother. I'm trying to get you to talk about yourself."

I laughed and looked in her eyes. "Okay."

"So… this story was a result of just one time, right?" she asked. "This one time they ditched you."

"They've ditched other times, but that one just hurt, I guess." I shrugged again, as if it were nothing. I was sure she could see right through that. "Despite everything, my family is pretty close."

"So, with your dad…"

"I'm worried," I said, closing my eyes. "Really worried."

"Do you have any guesses to what's going on?" she asked.

"I think these guys know magic we don't know of," I said. "I think they're powerful. And smart. They're not even causing a stir in terms of attacks. This was directed at the minister and my dad." I opened my eyes again. Her brown eyes were shining. "They want something."

"What?"

"I haven't a clue." My eyes dropped again. I loved being this close to Emily, for some reason. This is what she wanted, and I wanted to give it to her. "I'm scared."

"Me too." I didn't answer, and she nudged the tip of her nose with mine. "If it means anything… I love everything I've read in here."

I looked up. "You do?"

She nodded. "I almost want to be selfish and tell you not to publish anything. I want your words all to myself."

I laughed softly, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Is it fair to say I want you all to myself?"

Her face split into a smile. "More than fair."

"Have you…" I pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Have you thought of what you might want to do when everything… all of this… when it's over?"

"Yes," she admitted, "but none of it is concrete."

"What do you want for sure?"

"To spend your birthday with you," she promised, "and make it the best day of your life."

I laughed. "Okay," I said carefully – because really, what's the best way to ask your wife to be your girlfriend? "But… I meant in terms of us." She stilled. "Since we're not… _really_ married… I mean, we are, but I don't know if we should _stay_ married, and – mmm."

Who needs words when you have Emily's lips?

Emily slowly unravelled her legs, partially straddling me and pushing the soles of her feet against the trunk. I gently pulled away and grinned at her. "Done talking?"

"Not even close," she retorted.

"Uh huh." Before she could answer, I pushed her back against the branch behind her. She squeaked as her back hit the wood, and I gripped her waist tightly. "What were you saying about me being sweaty?"

A smirk flitted across her lips. "I _said_ –" she pushed the hem of my shirt up a couple of centimetres – "that you should be sweatier, so you can take this off." I grinned as she pulled it over my head and hung it on a nearby branch. Emily dipped her head and started kissing across my collarbone, accenting her words. "So – I – can – do – _this._"

Her lips reached my neck.

Fuck.

Within seconds, I'd tightened my grip on her hips and shoved her back against the tree. As soon as her lips pressed against mine, my sense came alive. The air filled with her sweet smell. Her moans vibrated against my lips, her mouth warm and soft and glorious. Her hips locked against mine. My heart thudded in my ears. Her hands threaded in my hair, tugging gently at the roots and digging into my scalp.

Merlin, how long had it been since I kissed her?

And how the hell did I _resist?_

"Al," she murmured as she pulled away a tiny bit. My lips followed, and she laughed. "I think your hands are a little _low_ there, don't you think?"

"Hmm," I hummed, pretended to think. Then I squeezed her arse, and she squealed against my lips. I kissed her again. "Nope."

"Mhmm." Emily smirked as her hands untangled from my hair. She ran them slowly down my sides, barely touching my bare skin, but still leaving the sensations of her soft hands there. I shivered involuntarily.

And suddenly, she pushed me and my back slammed to the opposite branch.

She landed on top of me, and I was painfully aware that she was still straddling me. I laughed when she took my hands and moved them off her arse. I shifted so one hand was still holding hers, and the other came up to twirl and wrap my finger in her hair. I smiled. "Touche."

"Thanks," she said. She was blushing. It was my undoing.

I cupped her cheek and kissed her deeply before putting my shirt back on. When I looked at Emily, she was biting her lip.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she answered, still blushing.

I smiled at her and brought her close again. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She tugged at the hem of my shirt. "Why'd you put this back on?"

"The wood was hurting my back."

"Oh, sorry," she said, smirking again. "Don't suppose you want me to kiss it better?"

"_You're _forward today," I said suspiciously. Not that I hadn't noticed, but it was getting a little weird. "What's up?"

"So you _don't_ want me to kiss it better?"

"Now that you mention it, my lips _are_ kind of sore…" She laughed and leaned forward to kiss me again. This time was slower than a minute ago, but I wasn't complaining. I wanted to feel like I could do this all time, anytime. Like I didn't need her to kiss me first, so I knew she still wanted it.

"Hey," I said breathlessly, pulling away. "Hang on a second." She ignored me and pressed her lips against mine again. And it wasn't as though I was complaining – I _really_ wasn't – but I needed to ask her, and she really wasn't making it easy when she kept doing that thing with her tongue.

"Seriously," I breathed. She moaned impatiently against my lips. "Em, I need to – mmm – I need to talk to you."

"Can it not wait?" she whispered before gripping my shirt at the top of my chest and pressing her lips insistently against mine. I was about to protest when she suddenly began to suck on my neck again. All thoughts flew out of my mind.

When I could think again, I nudged her back. I was immediately met with a wounded expression that made my stomach drop. Did I _have_ to be guilty every time I saw that?

Besides, I thought asking her to be my girlfriend would be a good thing.

"Why do you keep stopping?" she asked sadly, letting go of me.

"I just…" Shit. I didn't want to do what Rose said I kept doing – rejecting her and making her lose self-worth and whatever girly crap she dealt with. I didn't know why Emily was being so forward that day, but she was sitting in my lap, her hair all messed up, her lips swollen, looking all big-eyed and… well… desperate.

But I wasn't sure _why._

She bit her lip.

Screw it.

Our mouths met in the middle. Sometimes, I wish it were that simple; I just wanted us to be done with everything being so dramatic and stupid. I just wanted to ministry to sort out their shit, hand back my dad, tell Emily what happened with Holly, hope she didn't hate me and move on with my life. I just wanted to be able to snog her and not have to complicate or question every single damn thing.

Was that so much to ask?

I pulled back, but she had a firm grip at the back of my neck. I wish that I'd noticed her in school, even though we technically weren't allowed to speak to people in other houses. Maybe if we dated in secret, we could've skipped all this drama and… I dunno. Snogged in the Owlery. Or the Trophy Room. Or – fuck, the Quidditch Pitch. I moaned at that one, pulling her closer.

"EMILY AND ALBUS, SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…"

She smiled against my lips.

We broke apart and began to laugh. My fingers were still tangled in her hair. My shirt was balled up in her fists. Our foreheads joined as we loosened our grip on each other. She looked pleased, flustered and thoroughly snogged.

So worth the teasing.

"Are you guys coming down soon?" Lucy called while Chris continued to sing at the top of her lungs. "I wanna play princess!"

Emily laughed and raked a hand through her hair. _Damn._ I wanted to stay in that tree all day. She kissed me one last time before beginning to lower herself down the tree. "See you tonight, Al," she said.

She winked at me before she left.

She was definitely planning something.

* * *

"You stink at packing."

"You're not much better."

"At least my system doesn't involve throwing everything in the suitcase at once."

"Fine," I declared, throwing my hands up. "You and your fancy way of folding clothes. You win. Wanna snog?"

She laughed.

We were in my room, just after dinner. A few hours after Emily and I had gotten out of the tree (and Lucy played dress-up/princess with Emily – priceless), Teddy had shown up and given us the okay to start moving back to our respective homes.

Which meant, unfortunately, that Emily was going back to live with her parents. I never wished so badly as I did then that she hadn't told them it was fake. Marrying her didn't seem that ridiculous anymore, but now they knew the truth, and we weren't bonded.

Whatever, I just wanted her in my bed.

Instead, Emily was packing her things and trying to distract me in the meantime. Teddy had just told my family that were wasn't any weak spots into the ministry, let alone an entrance or exit. She knew that after the news, I hadn't eaten – just pushed my food around my plate.

So she was trying to distract me. And she was good at it.

"Seriously, you need to work on your packing skills," she muttered, ignoring my invitation and sifting through the suitcase.

"Hey, I packed that thing in five minutes _flat_." I smirked and lay on my bed backwards on my stomach so I could watch her pack. "Need I remind you that you were busy throwing up?"

"Please don't," she groaned. Emily transferred a pair of her shorts to her bag before holding up a large red shirt. "What's this?"

"My Quidditch Jersey."

She chucked it in her bag.

"Hey, that's mine!" I protested, confused to what she was doing. A good thief wouldn't steal something right before the owner's eyes – right? And what did Emily want my jersey for? "What're you doing?"

"Taking it," she said nonchalantly.

"Why, are you going to _wear_ it?"

"Yes."

… _oh._ My cheeks burned red hot, and I was sure my face looked ridiculous. Instead of watching Emily's smirking face, I moved my pillow to the foot of the bed, stuffed my face into it and groaned.

"Thank Merlin I didn't see what you had planned for tonight," I mumbled.

"Don't get me started on that," she instantly seethed. "I couldn't believe Dom just forgave Lysander so easily. He can't just come around with a pout and expect to be taken back after calling her a clingy girlfriend in front of everyone!"

"But she _is _a clingy girlfriend, and she _did_ take him back."

"I know," Emily grumbled.

"Adam's devastated," I added, grinning. Not only did Dom and Lysander get back together, but girl's night was cancelled. "He didn't get to see you all in your underwear."

"Girls don't sleep in their underwear," Emily said, laughing. Then she paused to look at me. "Although I could, if you wanted me to."

I kept my face deep in my pillow when I groaned again.

Emily finished gathering her clothes in her bag and lugged it onto the extra bed. I climbed on behind her as she dumped it out and began to fold and roll her clothes and organize them. She sighed audibly when I slid my arms around her and kissed her neck.

"Want some help?" I murmured.

"I'm okay," she replied softly, yawning. "It's been a long day, is all. And…"

"And what?"

"And…" Her voice had gotten so small and quiet that I wouldn't have heard it if I weren't right behind her. "And I'm scared to go home."

I cleared my throat. "You are?"

"Yes." Her body was trembling. I felt an overwhelming need to protect her – even more overwhelming than before, if possible.

"If… if you want…" I scratched my head. She turned around to face me. "If you wanted me to… you know, sneak out… I mean." My face coloured again. "I don't know how I'd pull it off, since the aurors or charms are bound to stop me, but if I could, I would."

She began to blush. "You would?"

"Of course."

"That's… so…" She leaned up and kissed me softly. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

She smiled. "You don't want me to get over you, do you?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"I…" I laughed nervously. "No. Not anymore."

"Does that mean your breakup doesn't bother you anymore?" she asked, toying with the ends of her hair.

"No, it means that I'm hoping you'll forgive me for being such a prat these past few weeks," I told her honestly, "and that when I tell you, you'll forgive me again."

"Are you ready to tell me?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"Tell me something else," she decided, crossing her legs and forgetting the suitcase behind her. "Something easier to talk about."

I thought about it.

"Snogging is easy, and requires no talking at all."

She rolled her eyes as I pulled her towards me and kissed her. Finally. This what I'd wanted to do since we stopped in that tree earlier.

"Al, I need to pack," she mumbled, smiling.

"I need a distraction."

"I need to leave," she decided, pulling out her wand and flicking it at the pile. I blinked, and everything was packing itself. Why hadn't she done that before, anyway?

Oh, yeah. She was stalling and being a very good distraction.

"My parents want to take me out for dinner tomorrow," she told me, getting up and watching her things rearrange themselves. She began zipping up her luggage. "They want to make up for missing my birthday."

"Oh yeah…" I thought for a moment. "What did I get you?"

"Nothing."

"_Nothing_?" That didn't sound right. "Seriously?"

"You've given me enough," she assured me, picking up two of her smaller bags. I bent down to take her biggest suitcase and we began to make our way downstairs. "Really, Al. Your stories make up for it."

"They're not good enough for your birthday," I muttered. _What could I get her as (very late) birthday present? _I set down the suitcase in the landing. Emily's parents were still chatting with my mum in the kitchen, so I turned back to her. "When do you want to meet up tomorrow?"

She put down the bags, slung her arms around my shoulders and leaned close. "Whenever you want to sneak out," she whispered.

"_What?_"

"Whenever you decide to come over," she clarified a little more loudly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I raised an eyebrow. She reached up on her toes to hug me. "Good night, Al."

"Night," I said gently, leaning down to kiss her. I watched sadly as their family came into the hall a couple of minutes later, waved goodbye and set off to their home.

"You are _so _whipped."

I spun around to see James and Lily laughing at me. Even my mum was smiling a little. I turned red for probably the millionth time that day and crossed my arms. "I'm not whipped, James."

"Oh, but you _are _–"

"I can't believe it," Mum said tearfully, stepping forwards and embracing me in a tight hug. "When did my son fall in love?"

"What am I, a hippogriff?" James muttered. Lily giggled. I was, however, was busy spluttering like a moron.

"But – you – she – I'm not in love!" I protested. Can everyone stop assuming I am?

"If it's not love, it's some serious obsession," Lily piped up.

I rounded on her. "Have you been reading romance novels again?"

"Oh, stop it," Mum said as my sister stuck out her tongue. "Lily, let your brother be in denial."

"Thank you," I said stiffly. Then my jaw dropped.

Wait, _what_?

Mum had already moved on, however. She looked down at the floor – very unlike her, but I suppose she was feeling horrible at the moment. "Does anyone want to sleep down here tonight?"

James, Lily and I exchanged glances before nodding. When we were little, the entire family used to gather in the family room, eat sweets, play Wizard's Chess or Gobstones or something. Lily was always the first to fall asleep. I was usually the last. I liked being in the middle of all the sleeping bags – I was mostly in between James and Lily – and hearing everyone fall asleep, snoring, breathing, sometimes talking. It was like being wrapped in a giant, loving cocoon.

(Shut up. It was awesome.)

And because my dad was missing, I was suddenly so glad I was with my family.


	36. Albus: The Invasion

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Albus: The Invasion**

Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to get out of a sleeping bag?

(And no, I wasn't sharing with Emily this time.)

But it's still especially difficult when your brother, sister and mother are all in the same room and you're squished in between them. And while that's awesome when you're all worried for your dad, it's hard when you wake up early and try to sneak out to see your girlfriend.

Err… soon-to-be girlfriend. If she agrees.

I'LL ASK HER SOON, SHUT UP.

As quietly as I could, I unzipped the sleeping bag all the way I could without sitting up. James snored loudly. I moved my pillow out of the way and inched backwards. Lily mumbled something and I froze. When she turned over, I moved back some more and worked on getting my legs out of the bag. I just had to be sure my siblings didn't hear me, since they were the closest, and then I'd be home free.

I tip-toed slowly out of room and to the kitchen, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling out a note. I stuck it on the counter in plain sight and crept down the hall and to the bathroom to brush my teeth and then to my room. The first thing I did was open the window and let down the fire escape ladder I'd had in there since I was five.

"Oi, who's that?"

I froze in my steps.

I scrambled back to the window to see a scruffy-looking wizard – the auror guarding out house – looking at my window and tugging on the ladder, another hand in his greying hair. I cleared my throat.

"It's Albus," I called down, sticking my head out and hoping my voice would carry into the house and wake anyone.

"What are you _doing_?" he asked, perplexed.

I decided that perhaps a conversation yelling back and forth wouldn't do much, so I put on some shoes and slowly made my way out the window and down the ladder. I got down and turned around. His eyebrows were raised. "Mr. Potter, what are you doing out of your home at six in the morning?"

"I'm sneaking out," I admitted.

"To where?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, scowling.

"Yes!" he answered, looking highly affronted. "I'm here to protect your family, and I cannot allow you to endanger yourself by – I don't know, sneaking off to the ministry –"

"What?" I interrupted. "I'm not going to the ministry by myself. That'd be stupid."

"Then where are you going?"

I cursed my quickly colouring cheeks. "My girlfriend's house."

He blinked at me.

Then he threw his head back, laughing. I scowled; I admitted the truth, and _this _is what happened? Bloody hell. It took him a few minutes to collect himself, and by that time, I was ready to kick his arse.

"All right, go," he said, chuckling.

My eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Go, before I change my mind," he said, smiling. "Run to the end of the street and apparate right as you turn the corner – muggles won't see, if they're looking. I'll keep watch."

I looked down at my attire – I was wearing pyjamas and a t-shirt. "Can I change?"

"Nope." I scowled at him, and he flicked his wand at the ladder; it flew back through the window, and the window shut. "Time's a wasting, m'boy."

I only _just _resisted giving him the finger before I left.

* * *

_Crack._

Whoops. That was loud.

Emily woke instantly, shooting up in her bed. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, but before she could speak, we heard footsteps and Emily's mum calling her.

"Quick, under the bed!" she hissed frantically. I dove under there as she yanked her sheets up to her chest, feigning sleep. Her bedroom door opened. Emily's mother's feet stepped near the bed.

"Emily?"

She mumbled a little.

"Did you hear someone apparating in?" she asked sleepily. "The alarms went off, but I don't see anyone downstairs."

I heard Emily give a huge sigh, the bed creaking as she turned over. "I -" _yawn _"- didn't hear anything."

"Okay, sweetheart." Her mum kissed her daughter and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Only when we heard another door shut from across the hall did Emily lean over and yank the bed skirt up to see me.

"What are you _doing _here?" she whispered.

"You know..." She lifted her head as I rolled out from underneath the bed. I gingerly stood up as she sat up, looking flustered and cute and surprised but also maybe... happy. Okay, I was _hoping _she was happy. I grinned at her. "Just here to raid your underwear drawer."

She let out a chuckle. "Are you, now?"

I shrugged. "I said I'd sneak out to see you."

Her expression softened and she climbed out of bed. "All right. You do that. I'm going to the bathroom."

"Okay."

"Try not to ruin my bras, okay?" I sniggered as she slipped out of the room and shut the door. I looked around; the last time I'd been in there was before the wedding. Her room kind of screamed Emily: simple, but elegant. And sweet. And beatiful. Very beautiful.

Her walls were yellow, accented by the sunlight pouring into her room. Her furniture was white - her bed pushed against the huge windows, her dresser and closet across from her bed, her desk across the room by the door and an overflowing bookshelf next to the bedside table, where my notebook lay. She was very clean compared to me.

I pushed my shoes off, sat on the bed and waited.

(I raided her undergarments ages ago.)

When she came back in, she smelled of toothpaste and soap. She sat beside me and laid her head on my shoulder, grabbing my hand. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"Why not?" I asked, pushing her back under the covers.

"Dunno." She pulled me close and snuggled against me. "Well, maybe I do know. I couldn't stop thinking. And now I know my house alarms are shitty."

"I'll fix them," I promised, cupping her cheek and kissing her. "Sorry for waking you up. Do you want me to go back home?"

"No," she murmured, holding me tightly. She was already beginning to drift off. "Stay. You make me feel safe."

"I don't think your parents will agree if they find me here."

"Lock the damn door, then."

I laughed and tore my gaze away from her to dig my wand out. When it locked, I looked back to her, and she was already asleep.

I stroked her hair and found myself falling asleep, as well.

(Her bed was so much comfier than a sleeping bag.)

* * *

When I woke up, Emily was lying on her stomach, my notebook propped up against her pillow. I yawned and slid an arm around her.

"Do you ever sleep?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," she said, laughing. She turned a page of the book; from the looks of it, she was reading the novel I'd just finished, and was about a third of the way through it.

"When'd you start reading _Trains_?" I asked.

"Last night." She marked the page and shut the book, switching it back into a chain. "It kept me up."

"So _that_'_s _why you didn't sleep..."

"Don't be so smug," she teased, putting the chain around her neck and snuggling back into me. "Merlin, Al, it's so addicting. I just about murdered you in your sleep for making Abby lose her memories. Poor Eddie."

I laughed, I was so relieved; I couldn't believe she wanted to read my stories, let alone that she _liked _them. "So... you really like it?"

"I love it."

"Thank you." My smile was threatening to split my face. I kissed her nose. "What're you doing today?"

"I'm snuggling with you," she said teasingly, "for a few hours, at least. Then my mum told me she wants to spend some time with me today. Probably painting nails or something like that. Then the dinner tonight. What are you doing?"

"I'm going to try and convince Teddy to let me to go the ministry," I told her. "James said that he thinks I might be able to figure out any entrances. He has too much faith in me, but I really want to try... and just see if I can do _something_."

She was silent for a moment. Then she reached for my hand and squeezed it. "I hope you find something, Al."

"Thanks." I paused. "Lily's really mad at me."

"She is?" Emily asked.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know." It really bothered me, fighting with Lily. While I fought with James probably every day of my life since I was little, Lily was the person we both got along with. She was the mediator, really. But when Lily's mad, she doesn't yell, she gives the silent treatment - and it hurts. "I apologized for the thing with Lorcan, but she said that wasn't it."

Emily thought for a moment. "Maybe you should do something really nice for her to make up for it. And then maybe she'll tell you?"

"Yeah." I stretched a bit. "Merlin, this week has never been so empty. I don't even have a job..."

Emily shrugged. "I think I'll go school shopping soon."

"Probably a good idea," I said absent-mindedly. My eyes found her bookshelf and desk. "Where are you going to put your new books? You don't have any room in here, I swear."

She laughed. "In my dorm."

My head snapped to her direction so fast, I was surprised I didn't get whiplash. Emily seemed unfazed, so casual, so unconcerned about the fact that she was going to be living next to door to some guys. Who weren't me.

Was I already jealous?

"You didn't tell me that," I said quietly after a few moments.

"Didn't come up."

"But... I was going to..." I didn't even know what I was saying. I wasn't going to ask her to move in with me, I was going to ask her to be my girlfriend. I didn't have any claim to whether she moved into a dorm or not... we hadn't even been on more than one date.

And suddenly, I realized that even though we were legally married, snogged in a tree and spent practically every minute together, it didn't mean that much. People had summer flings all the time, and just because we were together now, it didn't mean we would be in a few months. A lot could happen until then, and I'd only known her for two months. We still had ages to go before we could move forward.

_So ask her, dimwit. Ask her to be your girlfriend._

"Emily, I... do..." I swallowed and took a deep breath. "Do you... do you want to go on another date?"

Well.

That wasn't exactly the plan.

She stared at me. "Where did _that _come from?" I shrugged. "Hey, come on..."

"Do you?" I asked again, my voice wavering.

"Al..." She pushed herself so she was on top of me, my head resting against the pillows so I could see her, her arms propped up against my chest so she could look at me properly. "Of course I would. But what's going on? We'll have dinner every night, if that's what you're worried about. And I'll coming home on weekends."

"That's not it," I said, shaking my head. "I just... I want to take you out."

She rolled her eyes and smiled before leaning over to kiss me. "Okay."

"So when does school start?" I asked, twisting my finger in her hair.

"That's the thing," she said, "I'm not sure. The whole ministry thing might set back to school year. I'm _supposed _to start in two weeks." She paused, searching my expression with worried eyes.

Was it obvious how my stomach clenched when she mentioned the ministry?

"Al." I closed my eyes, letting go of her hair. She nudged me. "_Al_. Your dad will be _fine_, okay? He's so powerful. Everything's going to be fine."

I looked at her sadly. She hadn't seen Teddy. She hadn't seen my mum. She didn't see the helplessness and despair in their eyes. But then Emily was in my arms, her bright brown eyes staring determinedly at me and I wanted so badly to believe her.

I pulled her closer. "Promise?"

She didn't even hesitate before saying 'yes'.

And I thought Gryffindors were rash.

Emily sat up, an expression of disbelief and anger stretching across her face. I don't think she ever fully understood how attractive she was when she was pissed off at me. Not that I wanted her pissed off at me all the time, but she just looked so... sexy. Definitely sexy. Especially in the little clothes she was wearing.

She crossed her arms. "You don't believe me."

I shrugged.

"Well." She unravelled her arms, never moving her eyes away from mine as she leaned back down, arms and legs on either side of me, hovering over my body. "Do you believe me now?"

She pounced.

And I realized that I was a _very _ticklish person.

I squirmed and chuckled as her hands brushed against my sides. I tried to wiggle away from her, but instead, my legs caught on hers and she fell on top of me. She squealed and clamped her thighs to my hips, still trying to tickle me. I laughed louder.

"Shhh!" she whispered frantically, becoming still and looking at the door. "My parents can't know you're here."

"Why not?"

"They don't want you in my _bed_, idiot," she whispered, rolling her eyes. Then a smirk crossed her face. "So I wouldn't make any noises, if I were you. And I know how you _love _making noises."

And before I could protest, she began tickling me again.

That sneaky little bint.

I grit my teeth to keep from laughing, but she didn't have any mercy on me. I changed tactics; my hands reached hers and grabbed her wrists. Then, the next thing I knew, we'd flipped over, she was trapped underneath me and we were snogging in Emily's childhood bed.

That was so fucking hot.

She moaned quietly and slipped her hands out from my grasp so she could grab at my hair. I moved my hands, one to the back of her neck, one to her cheek. She rolled us over. I rolled us back, grinning against her lips. I began kissing down her neck to her shoulder, pushing the strap of her tank top away so I could kiss there. She moaned particularly loudly, and I lifted my lips.

"I think your parents are across the hall, Em," I teased.

"Shut up and keep doing that," she whispered irritably. I chuckled and continued, kissing and sucking around her collarbone.

Until I noticed something.

"Emily?" I asked, panting. She opened her eyes, but I wasn't looking at her face. I was staring abashedly at her chest - and normally, I wouldn't, I swear - but something that normally peeked out of the top of her tank top wasn't there. Something she said she wouldn't hide from me. "Emily, where are your bruises?"

She froze. "Al..."

"Tell me," I urged.

"I didn't want to risk my parents seeing," she confessed quietly. Then she reached on her bed stand for her wand and tapped the top of her chest. A dark purple blotch bloomed immediately at the lining of her tank top and extended down. She put her wand away and looked back to me, her eyes pleading with me. "Al..."

"I get it," I said, my voice hollow, "you don't want your parents to know. But you shouldn't be ashamed."

"Why not?"

"They're a mark of what you went through," I explained.

"I hate them," she said, shaking her head. "I can't believe - I _let_ him do this to me. That's what it reminds me of. And how I thought I was in love with someone who was hurting me, and making me feel like I wasn't worth anything, that I... I dunno, _deserved _it -"

I cut her off, kissing her hard. She looked to be on the verge of tears. "Shh. That's not true."

"It is," she protested, her voice weak.

"I think it shows how strong you are," I said softly. And before she could protest again, I leaned down and kissed the bruise that I could see. Right at the top of her chest.

Emily stopped breathing, staring at me with wide eyes.

I had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it. Maybe to make her realize that even though she hated that part of her, it was the part that I admired. That amongst the pain David had put her through, this was the mark of her doing _something _about it - even if it was the wrong thing to do.

I kissed her bruise again. She inhaled sharply. I moved down, lifting her shirt so I could do the same to her stomach, but she pushed me off her so quickly that I let myself roll beside her. She curled away from me and began to whimper and sniffle, grasping at her middle.

"Emily..." I turned her over and pulled her into my arms. "I'm sorry. You just - they're not ugly, okay? They don't make you ugly. Not at all. They make _him _just about the worst person in the world, for hurting you."

She buried her face in my chest. "I just want him gone from me. From my mind, from my body."

"But you can use your past to make your future," I said softly.

"I've tried. It's like a reminder," she whispered. "Like he still says I'm his and I don't deserve better. I want to move on from that part of my life and look at myself without hurting."

And just like that, it was clear that everything that happened two years still bothered her. Every day. Even though she was strong, it didn't mean some part of her had healed entirely from it. I wanted her to love herself from going through something like that and surviving rather than being ashamed for what _he_did. Maybe he screwed with her mind. I dunno.

But I was going to fix it.

* * *

After Emily stopped shaking (she didn't even cry, somehow), she'd gone back to normal. We'd pretty much just talked and snogged and cuddled until my stomach started growling unbearably. I tried my best to ignore James' smirk when I went home.

A couple of days passed. Lily was still avoiding me. James went to work (escorted, of course). Mum was cleaning furiously to keep herself busy. I'd asked Emily out for a couple of dates. Nothing huge, really; we went to the park, out to dinner, watched another muggle movie. Even with the aurors near, following us, it was nice.

Really, really, _really_ nice.

But then, the rest of the week was... strange.

Emily, especially. She started acting a little strange. I don't know what happened - I didn't do anything or say anything, but suddenly, she'd flinch every time I touched or kissed her. She'd be flirty and forward, but then when we were getting into snogging, she'd pull away really abruptly. It was as though she was nervous, but when I asked her about it, she said everything was fine. I went along with it.

At one point, Teddy, James and I went to London for the day. It took a bit of convincing, but Teddy finally let us go and inspect the ministry. Not that that it helped; it was sealed entirely from what I saw. I just couldn't shake the feeling that my dad was _in there,_ we were _so close _and we couldn't do a thing. After an infuriating three hours, we abandoned it and went to Diagon Alley.

I'd noticed that the ministry workers were a bit lost. From some stories spread around the pub, some workers had taken a vacation with their families. Others had disappeared. Others were drinking themselves into a stupor with nothing to do. It seemed that there was this invisible force that had kicked them out, and nobody knew what it was.

I'd started looking for work again - I wasn't going to school, after all - but with those ministry workers out of work, it was just about impossible. Plus, I wasn't about to give in and work for _The_ _Daily Prophet _again.

So I started hanging out with Adam.

* * *

"What do you do for fun?" he asked as he munched on an apple. He was staying with his aunt, who apparently lived a couple of streets over. I'd invited him over because I was bored. Simple. Don't tell him that. "You can't just sit around doing nothing."

I shrugged. "We can't play Quidditch here, it's a muggle neighbourhood."

"I suck at Quidditch." He threw his apple in the kitchen garbage. "Hey, do you know what basketball is?"

"Yeah," I answered, leading the way to the garage. I flicked the light switch on once I got in there and squeezed past the family van to open the garage door. Adam squinted in the light. "I haven't played for years."

"Me neither!" He grabbed the ball off the garage wall shelf and pointed his wand at the deflated orange ball. "I watch WizTelly a lot. Do you have one?"

"A what?"

His jaw dropped (along with the ball). "Shit! It's like muggle television, but for wizards. You can watch Quidditch inside your own house, it's awesome."

"Really?" I asked, interested. _Quidditch in your house? That's bloody amazing!_ I picked up the ball and plucked the old hoop off the same shelf. "How do you set it up?"

"It's really easy, actually," he said excitedly, taking the hoop and fitting it to a spot above the garage. I hated him for being taller than me. "You have a muggle TV for display, right? I'll charm it, and that's all you have to do."

"That's it?"

"They'll bill you." Adam grinned and snatched the ball from me. "Best out of twenty-one?"

"You're on."

* * *

"Al?" Mum called nervously as she stepped into the family room. "James? What's going on here?"

In the middle of our basketball game, James and a few of his Quidditch teammates had shown up and demanded to play. I didn't even remember the score. Too many fouls. After that, we'd decided to raid the kitchen while Adam set up the WizTelly, and Mum had just walked in on us all watching Quidditch.

I didn't blame her for being so confused.

"Hey Mum!" James said cheerfully, jumping up off the cough and giving her a hug. She cringed; he was pretty sweaty, since he'd just come from practice and then played basketball.

"James, go shower." She observed everyone from the entrance of the room, seeing how we were finishing off every bit of junk food in the house. She found the four unfamiliar guys, and pointed at them. "Who -"

"So this is Al," James began, gesturing to me, "who you may not know since he's always off snogging Emily -"

"Oi!"

"- and this is Adam, Al's friend. And here -" he pointed to three muscular guys on the couch, entranced by the WizTelly and not listening to a word he was saying "- are my teammates, Daniel, Craig and Josh." The brunette, Josh, I presumed, actually waved when he heard his name. James turned back to Mum. "Oh, and we got a WizTelly to watch Quidditch."

Mum turned away, smiling.

"I'll be in the front yard if you need me," she called. We all gave a grunt, attention fixated back to the screen. Chudley Canons vs. Puddlemere United - always entertaining. I didn't think it was possible for the Chudley Canons to have a forty-year losing streak.

"I don't know why I never had Sugar Quills in class," Adam commented, sucking on the end of one. "They're good."

"Especially in History of Magic," I added.

"Horrid class," he agreed heartily. "I was partial to Transfiguration. You?"

"I don't think I really had a favourite subject," I said, reaching for the firewhiskey James had brought out. I brought the bottle to my lips. "Maybe Astronomy. Shame Hogwarts doesn't have a writing class."

"Yeah, I learned by reading."

"Like the best writers," I said, grin. He brought his hand up for a fist bump, eyes zeroing in on my ring when I raised my own fist.

"Are you really married?" he asked curiously.

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, who told you?"

"Dom." His face immediately flushed a deep colour, and I laughed. This guy had it bad. He grinned happily, nonetheless. "I got to talk to her in the couple of hours she and Lysander weren't together. We've been owling ever since."

"Seriously?" He nodded, and I took another swing of firewhiskey. "Good for you, mate. Lysander's being an ass."

"Thanks." He reached and took a sip of his own drink. "I got her to come to this party on Saturday night. Jake Corner's parents are out of town, it's gonna be sick."

"The Ravenclaw?" He nodded. I shrugged. "I might come by. I haven't been to any parties this summer, it'll be good to catch up."

"Hell yes. You should bring Emily, too. And Rose and Scorpius."

"Sure."

"So what's the deal?" he asked, sitting up a little on the couch. "You're married? At eighteen?"

"I turn eighteen in October, actually," I corrected, "and the marriage is fake. We did it to try and keep Emily's family out of jail because of the laws, but it didn't work. They caught us in our lie."

"But you love her anyway." I shrugged, not bothering to correct him. He gave a low whistle. "Damn, have you been friend zoned?"

I snorted. "No."

"Then?"

"I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend." I took another swing. I didn't tell him how I kept screwing that up and chickening out. "We've been going out for dates nearly every day. She's coming over for dinner. Don't hit on her."

Adam grinned just as James and his friends began to cheer at the top of their lungs. The Puddlemere Seeker caught the Snitch. Predictable.

Emily came in just as we'd flipped to a scary movie - something to do with zombies at Hogwarts, or something ridiculous like that. My mum had evidently let her in. Emily sat on the arm of the couch, leaning down to kiss me. "Hey, Al."

"Hey, Em."

She nodded to Adam. "Hey."

"Hey, Gorgeous," he replied, winking at her. "There's a seat right here in my lap if you want it."

She laughed and slid onto my legs instead. "I'm good here. When did you get a WizTelly?"

Did everyone know what that was except for me?

"Just today, this git set it up," I said, gesturing to Adam with my thumb. He scowled at me. "We were watching Quidditch before."

"Who was playing?"

"Chudley Canons vs. Puddlemere."

"So you basically watched the Canons get their arse whipped for a couple of hours?"

"Basically," I agreed, laughing. Adam was looking at Emily in a whole new light; it wasn't that often that girls talked about Quidditch. He quickly mouthed to me, '_GET SOME,' _and made a movement with his hips.

I mouthed back: '_FUCK YOU.'_

_'YOU WISH.'_

I shot him the bird, and he laughed.

Emily stole a sip of my drink right as my mum came in with the pizzas we'd ordered. As Adam lunged for a slice, I whispered in her ear. "Hey, don't take too much of that, okay? You got wasted on half a bottle of it."

"Do you have anything lighter?" she asked.

"Juice." She smacked my chest lightly. "I can put some firewhiskey in it, I mean."

"Sure," she agreed, snuggling into my chest. I kissed the top of her head. "Am I invading guy's night, or something?"

"No -"

"Actually, yes." I kicked Adam, and he dropped his pizza. "_Shit _- I mean, just kidding, Emily."

"Sure, Adam."

"Are you up for a party next week?" he asked her. "I'm pretty sure it's safe. Got some aurors there who aren't opposed to partying and loud noises."

She shrugged, looking to me. "Why not?" He looked satisfied and chomped onto his new slice. She stood and pulled on my hand; I got the message and followed her into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Al," she said quietly as I poured a glass of orange juice. "You should've told me James had his friends over. Rose and Scorp invited me to their place a while ago."

"Hey, I want you here," I insisted, pouring a bit of my firewhiskey in the juice. I looked to Emily. She was biting her lip nervously, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. When I moved to put my hands on either side of her, she flinched. _Again. _"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she assured me, smiling and slowly wrapped her arms my neck. I hated that she was so nervous and jumpy and hesistant around me those days. I hadn't done anything to make her feel like she couldn't trust me. Hell, in my eyes, we'd gotten so much further than we were even a week ago.

What wasn't she telling me?

"Come on, you can talk to me," I urged. "That's what you're always saying. We should talk about this stuff. So talk."

She shook her head and laid it on my shoulder.

"So there _is _something wrong."

She sighed. "Yes."

"Did I do something?" I asked nervously. "If you didn't want to go on those dates, you should've just told me. I knew they were a little weird because of those aurors, but -"

"No, it's not that. Those were nice."

"Then?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she murmured, pulling away and pushing herself up onto the counter. I didn't move. She kept her eyes on her knees. "It's stupid."

"I bet it's not, if it's bothering you," I said, kissing her softly.

She kept silent.

"Look, whenever you want to talk about it, we will." I paused. "And... there's something I wanted to talk to you about, anyway. I kind of keep flaking out, but..."

She bit her lip, suddenly looking sexy and nervous at the same time. Did she _have _to make me want to snog her all the time? "What is it, Al?"

I took a deep breath. "I -"

_BAM._

There was a split second of dead silence before everyone in the house rushed into the hallway. I grabbed Emily's hand and pulled her quickly to the foyer. As soon as we got there, we could see that the door had slammed open, banging against the wall and causing the noise.

One of the aurors that guarded this house was dragging someone by the back of his shirt. I didn't recognize the boy; both of his eyes were blackened by shiners, there were cuts all over his face and it was clear that his ribs and arm was broken. He was bleeding from everywhere.

"This one was trespassin'," the auror grunted.

"Did you do this to him?" Mum asked sharply.

"No, he showed up here like this," he said, still holding the boy and shaking him like a rag doll. "He apparated onto the lawn and was screamin' for help. There's nothin' wrong with his legs. 'Spect the other injuries are hurtin' him."

"I..." The boy had begun to speak. His voice was scratched and weak, like he'd been screaming for hours. "I need help. Please forgive me. Please help."

"We need to take him to the hospital," Mum decided, stepping forwards.

"NO!" She froze. He slowly stood, his eyes still clenched shut. The auror's kept a firm grip on him. "No, not the hospital, I can't -"

"Boy, you're bleedin' out of your head," the auror told him.

"I can't, I can't, I can't," He kept chanting the words to himself, shaking from pain. We were all frozen in the hall, at a loss; who was this boy? Who hurt him? And why was he _here_?

Suddenly, Emily's hand was vice-like, gripping mine as though she were about to fall. She began to shake and moved behind me. I felt her face press into my back.

Then the boy opened his eyes, and I understood.

It was David.


	37. Emily: The Attention

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Emily: The Attention**

I felt as though I was hallucinating.

He couldn't be here. Impossible. Unheard of. Ridiculous. Not in the Potter home. This was the last place I could've ever envisioned him, and yet, there he was. Bleeding out of Merlin-knows-where, hunched over, blackened and… scarred.

I moved behind Al and pressed my face into his back. He squeezed my hand.

_This isn't happening, it isn't. David isn't here. He's off doing whatever he was doing in his screwed up life and he is bloody well staying out of_ mine_._

Al's mum was speaking. "Take him to the spare bedroom in the basement. Does he have a wand?"

"No," the auror answered, dragging David down the stairs on the right. Mrs. Potter followed, closing the basement door shut behind her.

There was a long silence.

"Who was _that_ piece of shit?"

The hallway broke into nervous laughter. I stepped away from Al, taking deep breaths; I was surprised how Adam just _knew_, under the pleading, who David really was. I didn't have that ability. "That was my ex-boyfriend."

The hallway turned to stare at me. Awkward.

"No shit?" I nodded, and Adam scoffed. "Well, you sure know how to pick 'em."

"Thanks, mate," Al said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Everyone turned to go back to the living room, but Al tightened his grip on my hand and brought me back into his chest. His hands met around my stomach. "You okay?" he whispered.

"I think so." My hands were shaking a bit. "Just surprised."

"You want to get out of here, don't you?"

"Yes," I admitted guiltily, and he laughed. I turned around and wrapped my arms around him. "What's he doing here?"

"I dunno," he answered, deep in thought. "Merlin, I swear, if he wasn't so badly beaten already, I would've –"

"Al."

"It's true," he muttered defiantly. I stepped away, biting my lip; I didn't want Al to stick up for me. I wanted to be stronger than that. I _was_ stronger than that.

"I'm going home."

"I'll take you," he offered.

"No, it's okay." I took another large breath, trying to forget that David was in this house. Right in the basement. _I can do this. Everything will be fine. He won't hurt me again._

"Are you sure?" he asked, stepping forwards. "You look like you're going to be sick." I nodded, and while he still looked unsure, he agreed. "All right. Want to go out tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"I'll meet you in Flourish and Blotts at noon."

"Okay." I barely knew that I was saying. Al led me outside and closed the door before kissing me goodbye. He tasted like fire whiskey. When he pulled back, it was as though he wanted to say something. I wondered whether it was the same as what was on the tip on my tongue, something I'd wanted to say every time he kissed me sweetly or brushed my hair back or wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.

_I love you._

In the end, we didn't say a word.

* * *

Remember when you asked people that question – 'how do you know when you're in love?' – and they would sit back, get this look on their face, half wistful, half thoughtful, and saying something along the lines of, 'you just know'?

As infuriating as it was, they were right.

It didn't feel like puppy love. It didn't feel shallow. I felt elated, but I didn't feel a deep desire to every single minute snogging or sweet-talking to Al. The biggest thing was that I loved being around him, no matter what we were doing.

Granted, he got annoying sometimes. A girl can't snog _that_ much, you know. Even if he got the cutest look on his face. Al was also annoyingly messy. Besides not being able to pack for his life, he left his socks on the floor and barely ever cleaned up after himself. He really needed to stop holding me in his sleep when I needed to pee. He also ate a _lot_.

But he was also just about the most indescribably wonderful person I'd ever met. I loved the way he talked when he was writing, either saying it out loud or speaking to himself as he made corrections. I loved how when he was writing, he'd get this intense look of concentration, and it was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. I loved his smile. I loved his laugh and how it vibrated from his chest, like he was laughing with his entire body. I loved how he played with my hair. I loved how he always knew when there was something going on, but he didn't push me (too much) to tell him. I loved how we could talk for hours about absolutely nothing. I loved how he would tell me these random facts, whatever came to his mind, but he thought nothing of it.

And while people have always told me to watch out when your boyfriend or husband or whatever acts differently around you compared to other people, I didn't think Al was like that. I think he was guarded around other people and tried to give this perceptive of himself that he doesn't give a shit about anything so people didn't mess with him. I thought that maybe he was tired of caring what other people thought. I was.

And at the same time, Al was possibly the most caring person I'd ever met.

As cliché as it sounds, I'd never felt like this before. I felt happy and comfortable and safe around him, despite him having his fair share in hurting me. But I didn't believe that you could love someone without being hurt in the process. I felt as though love was being entirely sure you could trust someone, he gives you butterflies and yet he messes up sometimes. You both do. But you don't give up.

At least, that's what I thought it was.

All I knew was that he had my heart, and he could cause more damage than David ever did.

* * *

"Okay," Al stammered, "so Lily's pretty much a history nerd, but more than anything, she loves books. I think she wants to read every single book on the planet before she dies, or something. She's read through the Hogwarts library twice. It's a wonder she has friends. It's a good thing Lorcan's a nerd, because I'd seriously have to wonder what's wrong with the bloke. But anyway, she loves pretty much everything, and I looked through her books through this morning while she was still sleeping, and decided it'd probably be best if I got her a special edition of something."

_He's so cute when he's nervous._

"Are you okay, Al?" I asked, my lips twitching into a smile.

"Yeah! Of course!" He ran a hand through his hair. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"I think you're sweating," I commented lightly, amused.

He ran a hand across his sweaty forehead. "Oh. Well." I waited expectantly, arms crossed and foot tapping, but he just stood there, red-faced and sweaty and jittery.

What the hell?

We were in Flourish and Blotts for our date, as planned, looking for a book for Lily. I'd gotten there a couple of minutes early, so Al had found me upstairs and thought it would be a great time to sneak up on me and scare me again.

Had anyone else noticed how he wrapped his arms around me directly after making me jump?

I loved that.

But the nerves? Not so much.

"So, what's it going to take for you to tell me?" I asked, smirking and leaning back on the railing. "Do I have to seduce you, or does mentioning it do enough for you?"

He groaned. "Em, we're in public."

"You don't want to be seen with me in public?" I asked, faking offence.

"I don't want the public to see what I'd like to do to you."

_Damn._

Okay, he won this one.

He laughed and pulled me towards him by my belt loops and kissed me. "Sorry. I just wasn't sure how you'd react to this."

"To what?"

"I talked to David last night." I stilled and my heartbeat started to go on overload. _Shit, Emily, don't panic. _I think Al could sense this, too. "Don't worry, it wasn't anything bad. My family was there. We just asked him who beat him up, when was the last time he ate, that sort of stuff."

"Oh." My hands lingered at his sides. "What'd he say?"

He dropped his forehead on mine. "He says he knows where my dad is."

"_What_?" I exclaimed, trying to step away, but his grip was too strong.

"He says he was with them," he whispered. "He says he was part of the group that abducted the ministry and killed the minister. He says he knows everyone there, the way in and out. He says he came back because he didn't want to do it anymore, but they caught him as he was leaving."

"Merlin." I couldn't believe it. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"

He clenched the hem of my shirt in fists. "Because I don't believe him."

I faltered. "You don't?"

"No," he said firmly. "And, I, uhhh... told him to go to hell and stop fucking with people's lives."

Oh.

So _that_'_s _why he was nervous.

"Bet your mum didn't like that," I said.

"Not really. Language."

I rested my cheek on his shoulder. "Thank you, Al." _I love you._"But you don't have to do anything. I want to tell him one day, by myself, without your help."

"I know, and you will." He sighed. "I thought you'd be mad at me."

"Not at all."

"I can see that," he teased. "Come on, I want to find the special edition of this book…" Al fished a piece of parchment from his pocket for me to read. _History of Magical Greece._ "She loves that shit," he explained.

"Are you buying her forgiveness?" I joked, poking his middle.

"I'll do what it takes," he said, shrugging. I resisted the urge to squeeze him for loving his sister.

We'd found the book and just finished paying when the doors burst open and people streamed in, passing the cash register and going to the back to a large podium beside a huge stack of books. Cameras flashed as a skinny lady with jet-black hair stepped behind it, smiling with teeth so white I was surprised I didn't go blind.

"Cho Chang, with her new book…"

Al wasn't listening; he was glancing around the crowd. "I think we've lost our auror…"

I stood on my toes to check. "Oh yeah…"

He grinned at me. "Want to ditch?"

He wasn't serious, was he?

… he was serious.

Before I could answer, one of the short, grey-haired reporters was pushing people out of the way and directing his camera towards us, pointing at Al and I and our intertwined hands – "_It's Albus Potter and his wife!_" – and with a crazed look on his face and bared teeth, he snapped a picture.

I blinked.

Then Al was pulling me by the hand and we ran out the door, away from the cameras, away from the screaming reporters, running, running, running until we turned a corner and –

"This leads to a dead end," Al said, panting. He was panicking; they were gaining. "Shit, shit, shit –"

"In here!" I gasped, pulling him into the nearest shop. It was filled with rows of robes; I pulled him into the nearest aisle, running all the way into the end and ducking into the corner hidden by robes. Al was pushed against the wall as I buried myself in one of the robes hanging on the hanger and peeking out onto the other side of the aisle, where I could see out the glass door. I felt Al breathing down my neck, panting.

The reporters appeared a few seconds later and ran down the street. As they realized we had disappeared, they began to curse and split apart, looking for us. Al squeezed my sweaty hand; using the little light that had reached the corner, I could see him smiling.

"Did you see a shopkeeper when you came in?" I whispered, peeking out the other side of the robes and into the store.

"No – maybe they're in the back?"

"Maybe." I turned around. "Maybe we should stay for a couple of minutes until they leave."

"Sure," he agreed, sliding down the wall. He put the book down beside him and pulled me onto his lap. "I'm sure we can find _something_ to do to pass time."

I rolled my eyes. "Are we not in public?" I asked teasingly, sliding my arms around his neck.

"Like I could resist you in a dark –" he kissed underneath my ear "– hot –" he sucked at my earlobe "– corner." Then his hands were in my hair and his lips were on mine, and trust me – I wasn't resisting.

Merlin, it never got old.

And even though it was gross and sweaty because it was summer and this store was full of robes and no fans, my head was spinning from the urgency. I pinned him against the wall. His hands were on my arse, pulling me closer, and then they were under my shirt, pushing it up, and I honestly couldn't fault him because I was doing the same.

I couldn't breathe in the proximity, so I was breathing in Al, and he smelled _so_ good, like autumn and books. The sensations were vibrating around us. I was trying not to make noises and Al could tell, but instead of teasing me like he usually did, he pulled me closer and gripped at my skin. Like he was trying not to moan, either.

And that's when I felt this thing in my stomach – like a shock. A tightening. Like my belly was seizing, and every time Al would do that thing with his tongue or squeeze my arse or lift my shirt up some more, I would feel it. A shock streaking through my body, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

Because this, while not wholly unfamiliar, was becoming more rough and passionate and urgent by the day. Like we were building to something. And there, in that tiny, hot and sweaty corner of the robe shop, all I could feel were those shocks and all I could hear was our laboured breathing mingling together and he was kissing me like he'd never be able to do it again.

And while it felt fucking _amazing,_ it was also terrifying.

Because I knew he'd done this before.

I didn't even want to think about Al not being a virgin, but it kept bouncing back into my brain like a freaking boomerang. It bothered me, okay? It bothered me that he could have kissed someone else like – like _this._ Desperately and passionately. That someone had felt so exhilarated and hot and so good, because of Al. That someone had done all this before. That he loved someone enough to do all this.

I didn't want it to bother me, but it did.

I thought I would be okay with it. I did. But then I read his book, which was amazing. Honestly. It was about an eighteen-year old orphan named Eddie who had just come out of his orphanage and lost his job, so he was resorting to stealing to go by in life. He would steal money from people at train stations, but he wasn't a real thief, so when he held up a girl in taking her money, he made her lose her train, and he felt guilty. The girl, Abby, was pretty naïve, so he decided to protect her for the night and then try to help her get back on track. Unfortunately, she lost her memories in an accident, and everything pretty much went to shit.

They fell in love. Al wrote it so amazingly, and I fell in love with Eddie and Abbey… but then they had sex, and though it wasn't explicit or anything and it was almost _cute…_ it just made me feel more insecure about everything.

And the thing that scared me the most was that even if he didn't _say_ anything, it was obvious in the way he was kissing me that he was _expecting_ something. Not only that, but… what if he expected it to be good? And I wasn't going to be good, okay? I'd never even done it!

The other question was whether I wanted to do it. I mean, my body wanted it, but I don't think I could answer if I was really _ready_ for it. I didn't know. When I was younger, I ideally thought I wanted to married and in love – and I was. But there was still something that made me nervous – like the fact that we weren't in love when we first got married (and I didn't know if Al was in love with _me_, either way). And then I kept thinking that he wouldn't wait forever, you know? But then what if he wasn't interested anymore if we had sex? Would it be worth it?

(It was all utter bullshit. I knew that.)

(But I couldn't help thinking it.)

(I was scared.)

I broke away from him, breathing heavily to try and catch my breath. He opened his eyes and smiled. His chest was heaving up and down. He'd lost his shirt. So had I. Whoops.

"Think the coast is clear?" he breathed.

"I dunno." My mind was still spinning from snogging Al. Did I have the same effect on him? He leaned in to kiss me again before handing me my shirt and pushing me off his lap. We both dressed and tip toed through the shop. Still no shopkeeper. We got lucky.

"So," Al said happily as we walked through the streets, "want to enjoy an auror-less date?"

"Does it involve ice cream?"

"Of course."

"Conditions met, offer accepted," I teased, squeezing his hand. He grinned and kissed me quickly. In the middle of Diagon Alley, with his hair still messed up and sweaty and reporters were still lurking.

"You're amazing," he murmured, slipping an arm around my waist.

I blushed. "You're not so bad yourself."

"You're only saying that because you get ice cream."

"Maybe," I teased.

_But more because I love you._

* * *

One thing you should know about Al is that he had very little arm strength. I mean, he had _some – _he had a lot more than I did – but I couldn't imagine that sitting around and writing all day did a lot of for him. He should probably lift weights or something.

But he should not, under any circumstances, lift _me._

"AHH!" I squealed, trying to worm my way out of his arms. He was carrying me bridal style, ironically enough, and I was carrying a not-very-heavy box that he insisted on carrying. And then he picked me up. "Al, put me down, please –"

"Huh, you're right," he said, grinning and ignoring my pleading. "That box is light."

"Al, I swear, if you don't put me down, I'm going to –"

"I swear you have anger issues," he interrupted, kissing my cheek. I squirmed. Honestly, this boy was asking for it. We were standing outside my new dorm building, beside my parents' car. I didn't think my parents would really appreciate coming out and finding Al's hands on my bum.

When he offered to help me move my things into my dorm, this was _definitely_ not what they had in mind.

I kind of loved being in his arms, but as wonderful as they felt, him carrying me made me nervous. I definitely didn't trust his arm strength, and I was getting more and more jittery the longer he held me.

"Okay, seriously, put me down," I said, dropping the box back into the open trunk of the car and wrapping my arms around his neck to secure myself. "I'm scared of heights."

"You play Quidditch, Em."

"Come on, _please_," I whined obnoxiously, and Al laughed. He let me down and grabbed the box. I shut the car trunk in resignation – I guess that's he wanted in the first place.

Didn't know Al was such a gentleman.

(Cue: snort.)

"I can't believe you have to live in this dump," he complained as we walked up the stairs, dodging other students and their own boxes. "Shouldn't future Healers get luxury or something?"

"Not everyone is studying to be a Healer," I told him, "and it's not _that_ bad."

"Why can't you just live at home?"

"Because I enjoy watching your head explode." I giggled as he shot me an annoyed glare, and we exited onto the fourth floor – my floor. "Well, more because I just wanted a change. It might be easier to study here."

"I suppose," he concluded as we walked into my new room. My parents were waiting there, looking considerably tired from all the lifting. After deciding that this was the last box and hugging my parents goodbye (they had to get back to work), Al flopped onto my bed.

"Emily, this place really is a dump," he muttered, looking around. The room was a rectangle, beds pushed on opposite sides of the room and desks and dressers pushed against the wall, in front of the windows. There was a closet next to the door. I pushed aside one of my boxes and pushed myself up on top of my desk, crossing my legs and looking around.

"It's not too bad." I tried to sound convincing, but it wasn't too easy; the carpets looked old, the walls were a painfully dull off-white and the air conditioning was obviously not working – though I wasn't sure why, since it was easy to fix with magic. Perhaps it was just off. "I mean, the view is nice from here."

"Is it?" He got up off the bed as I turned around on my desk. I felt his arms around me moments later and his chin on my shoulder. The view was just the street outside, but there was something nice about being able to just see people rushing up and down the streets in their strange clothes and seeing street vendors calling out.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it's all right."

I laughed and leaned into him. "So why are you so against me staying in a dorm? It's kind of old, but I could live here for a bit."

"Do _you_ want to check the drawers for bugs?"

"Nono," I backtracked quickly, fighting back a smile. "You can do it."

Al grinned and sat down behind me, pushing me forward. I felt like we hadn't sat like this in ages, but it had probably only been a couple of days. Typical. "I'm sure you'll be fine. It's just a teensy little bug."

I shuddered. I hated bugs. "I heard there were cockroaches in some of the bathrooms," I countered, threading my hands in his. "Want to go check?"

"Do you want me to save you, or something?" I made a face; he knew exactly how to bug me (no pun intended). I didn't even have to tell him that I didn't love the whole damsel-in-distress ideal – even if he'd been the one to enforce it for me.

He kissed my nose playfully at my look of disgust. "Just kidding, Em."

I gave a grumpy smile. "You still haven't told me the real reason why you don't want me to live here."

"I want you in my bed, not here," he said, shrugging.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

He laughed again, although a bit nervously this time. "No, it's not that. I mean, it _is_ that, but… err…" I waited as he stumbled through his words, face growing redder and redder. I wondered what had him so nervous. "See, I dunno if you noticed, but there are a lot of… blokes around…"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "So?"

"I mean, at Hogwarts…" He swallowed. "Well, the bathrooms weren't across the hall from each other, for one."

"Wait, so are you…" I cocked my head, trying not to smirk. "Jealous?"

"No!" he denied immediately. "Not at all."

"Then what are you trying to say?" I teased.

"I'm just worried for your safety," he lied.

"Oh, okay," I said, mockingly serious. "I guess I should probably meet me neighbours and let them know that my non-jealous non-husband won't be around to see me go down the hall to and from the bathroom in a towel, so if that occurs, they shouldn't dare try to jump me."

He groaned and closed his eyes. "Em."

"I mean, I can get a shorter towel. Just to make sure."

"Emily!"

"It's called a bathrobe, genius," I said, smirking and kissing his jaw. "Admit it. You're jealous."

"I'm not."

"Then tell me you're okay with me meeting new people – _guys –_ without you around." He groaned again and tightened his hold on me. I laughed triumphantly. "See, just admit it."

"It's not like I don't want you to meet new people, or guys," he clarified. "Just don't know if you'd bother with me after all I've done."

"I thought I was supposed to be the insecure one," I said, rolling my eyes. "Are you even close to telling me what's bothering you so much?"

"I'm getting there," he reassured me, "and I'm not _insecure_ –"

"Bullshit."

"But I'll admit it," he said reluctantly. "I'm jealous."

"I knew it!" I turned in his arms and kissed him softly, my hands pressed against his neck and cheek. "You have nothing to worry about, you know that?"

"You sure about that?" he asked, his lips twitching.

"A hundred percent." He looked relieved. He obviously hadn't a clue that I was in love with him, even though it was much more obvious than I'd like to admit. I kissed him again. "No one compares to you, you know. No need to be jealous."

He smiled. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Okay."

"Don't laugh."

"Is it funny?"

"It's odd," he admitted, shrugging. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion; he was fiddling with the hem of my shorts and biting the inside of his cheek. He was nervous again – why?

"Tell me," I urged.

He paused. "You know how we're not _really_ married? I mean, we are, but…"

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

He stared right into my eyes. "Do you think of me as your husband?"

I froze. I'd been thinking about the same thing for a week, now – ever since Al's dad was captured. There were many times that I thought he was about to ask for a divorce, and I had admittedly snogged him before he had a chance to ask.

Not the most mature thing I've done, I know.

Although I knew there wasn't a point to us being married anymore, I didn't want to divorce, because I didn't know what that would mean for our relationship. I knew the answer to his question: I knew I didn't see him as my husband. I was too young for that. I still didn't feel like I knew him well enough to say that I was going to spend every last day of my life with him.

That didn't mean I wasn't in love with him. It meant that I was just trying to be realistic about this. How many teenage relationships survive? What if Al met someone else? I was still sort of worried he was still in love with Holly, even though he hadn't told me he was. He hadn't told me anything about their relationship, honestly. And I think that fact – that he still couldn't talk to me about it – really said that we weren't ready for marriage.

But we _were_ married. And the only reason I wanted to stay married is because I wanted to give this an honest shot. I wanted to see if we could stay together without breaking up over little arguments. I wanted to see if we could stay together when we spent time apart and talked to other people. I wanted to see, in a year, if we could still have a conversation.

I suppose the marriage just put that pressure on us to stay together, even if it wasn't real.

I wasn't ready to let it go. But I _should _have. Just so we knew, for sure, that we could actually make this work. Actually be together. Maybe love each other, and forget what anyone else said.

"No," I admitted, "I don't think of you as my husband."

"I don't think of you as my wife." His green eyes were determined. "I don't know if we should divorce, or not. I was hoping we could just disregard we're married, for the time being. Just put it on papers for legal stuff."

"Oh." I felt that blow in my chest, I swear. Maybe it was my heart breaking? I looked down to our intertwined hands. "What are you trying to say?"

"I was wondering – I mean, only if you really wanted to – ah, fuck." I glanced back up to see Al's cheeks turning even redder by this point. He was so flustered at this point that I felt a strong urge to just hold him tight until he wasn't so _nervous_ anymore. He smiled uneasily. "I've been trying to ask you for a week."

"You – ask me _what_?" I asked, biting my lip. To break up? I really didn't want that.

Maybe I should snog him again, like all the other times.

"It's weird to ask," he said, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. "I really like you, and… I was wondering… if you'd like to be my girlfriend."

_Oh._ That's what he wanted to ask.

I think I just melted on the spot.

"Damn," he said quickly, opening his eyes again. "Shit, never mind. Just forget I said anything. That was stupid. Never mind."

I wasn't listening to his nerves, though. "Your girlfriend?"

"This was a really bad idea – what?" He ran a hand through his hair, staring at me wistfully. Then he dropped his hand, as if surrendering. "Yeah. My girlfriend."

"I…" _Hell. YES._ I bit my lip again. There was one thing that was still bothering me. "Would – would you have asked me if I wasn't moving into a dorm? If you weren't jealous?"

"Of course," he said immediately, his back straightening. His finger went around my neck. "I've wanted to ask you since I gave you –" he held up the chain on his finger so I could see it. "– this."

Al dropped the chain back onto my chest and smiled. It was my turn to blush.

Disregard that we were married and start dating. Like a normal couple, doing normal couple things, going at a normal pace. I mean, Al and I had been going out on dates all week, but they were so casual, like we were just hanging out. I hadn't dressed up, and he hadn't taken me anywhere fancy. Maybe we could do both. Put a name on it, go on real dates, and hang out as well.

"Yes." I was sure our faces matched by now – matching tomatoes. Attractive_. _"Yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

His face broke out into a grin and he kissed me. Both softly and deeply. I could feel him smiling against my lips as he moved to cup my face. I pressed closer to him. I felt as though every bit of me had warmed, as though we were doused in heat.

(I think I had just melted all over again.)

"Are we going to be one of those mushy couples that can't hang up the phone?" I teased, whispering against his lips. My heart was beating ridiculously quickly.

"Nope." He kissed me again, pulling me onto his lap. "We don't have phones."

"Good, I'd rather you give me cake than give me mushy goodbyes."

"Mmhmm."

"And stay in my bed all night, now that my parents won't walk in." I immediately internally cringed when I said this; it didn't sound like a sex invitation, did it? I was really hoping it wasn't. Al should know what I meant. I hoped.

"That bed is _not_ comfy," he insisted. I pouted playfully, and he laughed. "Fine. I know how hard it is without me around at night."

"Asshole," I mumbled. "I'll just go ask one of my neighbours, then."

"Hell no." He kissed me again, harder this time. I felt that jolt again, streaking through my body. "Tell everyone you have a bodybuilder for a boyfriend so they'll leave you alone."

"When the real one can barely lift me?"

"Shut up," he said, effectively doing so with his lips. I laughed and kissed him back happily. All those jolts were spreading through me again. Perhaps it was from finally knowing for sure what we were? I wasn't sure. I'd never been into strictly labelling everything, but I kind of _did_ want to know if Al was planning on keeping me around or move to Guatemala without telling me. That's all.

Maybe we still had a _slight_ communication problem.

But it was getting better, right?

We were really getting into snogging when the door opened. Al shoved me off of him and sprung off the desk. A girl about our age walked in; she was a little taller than me, wore very fancy clothing and had strawberry blonde hair. Her jaw dropped when she saw us.

"Hi, sorry," I said hastily, hurrying forward. "I'm Emily, your new roommate."

"Mabel," she said rather coldly. I backed a little in surprise.

Al shot me a quick look before stepping forward, hand outstretched. "I'm Al, Emily's boyfriend." I felt a little giddy at his words.

That is, until Mabel grasped his hand and shook it, looking at him as though the light shone out of his arse. "Hi," she said breathlessly.

Al backed up, giving me an uneasy look. I decided to just brush it off and push him towards the door; I told him earlier that I was going to set up my things by myself. My parents had invited his family over later, anyway. "I'll see you at dinner, Al."

"You sure you don't want help?"

"Nope."

He rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss me. "Fine. I'll see you later." He turned to my new roommate, who was still watching us. "Nice meeting you, Mabel."

She nodded frantically, eyes zeroing in on Al as though she were in a trance. With one last nervous glance to me, Al left, shutting the door behind him. She spun around to me immediately, manicured nail pointed in my direction.

"You're Albus Potter's wife," she stated harshly.

"Err, sort of," I said, shrugging. "Legally."

"How did _you_ manage to become his wife?" she demanded, giving me a once-over. Her expression wrinkled in disgust. "Didn't know he liked the simple type."

"What did you just say to me?" I snapped, stepping forwards.

She disregarded my question with a wave of her hand. "I don't think you deserve him, Emma."

"It's Emily."

"Whatever," she said. "Did you know his favourite colour when you met him?"

I raised an eyebrow. "No."

"His favourite book?"

"No."

"His favourite pastime."

"No," I grounded out through gritted teeth. "I'm not a fucking stalker."

She gave a dramatically tragic sigh, clutching her chest. "I fear for him, getting mixed up with bimbos like you. You just don't know him like I do, Emma."

"It's Emily," I said furiously, "and –"

"He'll realize what an airhead you are soon enough," she said casually, dismissing me. Like I didn't even matter. "I'm getting my things. Do me a favour and give me his contact information." She gave me the stink eye and blew me a kiss as she left. "Thanks, Emma."

My jaw dropped.

You have _got _to be kidding me.

My new roommate wanted to steal my husband, who had just asked me to be his girlfriend, then she walked in and caught us snogging and not two minutes passed by before she swore that she would break us up because apparently I didn't _"deserve_" him or "_know_" him.

I banged my head against the wall.

My new roommate just _had_ to be a die-hard Albus Potter fan.


	38. Emily: The Change

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Emily: The Change**

Although Mabel Jones was slightly insane and after my boyfriend, she wasn't a bad roommate.

She was actually very considerate – to an extent. We split the room and closet in two, predictably, and though she was messy and had a lot more things than I did, she kept her stuff on her side of the room. She didn't disturb me when I was obviously studying.

As for the posters of Al… eh. I could deal.

"I'm majoring in medicine," she told me as she unpacked clothes from her boxes. "Concentrating in magical and non-magical herbs and the use of them."

"That's actually very interesting," I told her, smiling. I was hanging my clothes on hangers. "I'm studying to be a Healer."

"Difficult line."

"I've got the background for it," I said, shrugging. "My dad's a Healer and my mum's a nurse."

"Huh. My dad's a musician and Mum works in Magical Law Enforcement at the ministry." She emptied the box and chucked it near our open door; students were everywhere, moving in. Some waved at us as they went by. She waved back.

"What do you think you'll be doing after you finish your studies?" I asked.

"Haven't a clue," she answered. "Do you have Albus' information for me?"

I rolled my eyes. She'd called me a bimbo, an airhead and simple, but she still expected that I would set her up with my boyfriend. "Mabel, for the last time, I'm not letting you near him."

"Can't you at least _tell_ me about him?" she urged eagerly.

"I thought you already knew more about him than I did," I said dryly, going back to hanging clothes.

"But not the _personal_ stuff." She leaned over a box, batting her eyelashes. "Come on. What does he talk about? What kind of toothpaste does he use? Is he a good kisser? Is he good in bed?"

I spluttered, blushing.

"Oh, and what does he sleep in?" she asked excitedly. "My best friend thinks boxers, but I think he's more of a sleeping-in-the-nude sort of guy."

I choked on my own spit.

Holy crap.

"I don't think I should be answering these things," I managed to stutter, busying myself with piling my books on my desk.

"I won't tell."

"Neither will I."

"Aww, come on, Emma." I glared at her, and she held up her hands. "Emily. Sorry. Bad with names. But seriously, my friend and I have been wondering for years."

I shook my head. I couldn't have even answered about Al being good in bed if I wanted to. He was good at sleeping? "I don't think so, Mabel."

She sighed dramatically. "Maybe I should dye my hair brown," she contemplated, turning away and looking at herself in the mirror she'd hung on the door of the closet. "If he likes that?"

"I think you should be yourself and look for someone who's not taken."

"I think you should divorce him."

"Not gonna happen."

"You sure?" When I nodded, she sighed dejectedly and straightened up. "I'm going to call my bestie and tell her."

"You do that," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Maybe you guys could become our OTP!" she said suddenly, eyes sparkling, looking giddy and excited all over again. At my confused look, she scoffed. "Oh, come on. OTP? One true pairing?"

I stared at her in disbelief.

Was she for real?

Mabel had already disregarded me and was whipping out her cell phone and dialing. A couple of moments later, she squealed and said, "Okay, change of plan: we're going to ship them instead. You have to come over soon, because I have a feeling he's going to be around a lot. Uh huh. No, he's _fit._ Even more so in person." She squealed again and gripped the phone tightly. "He knows my _name_, can you believe it?"

I stared, jaw dropped as she skipped out of the room, still babbling. Then I groaned and jumped face-first into my unmade bed.

I guess this is what happens when you have a famous boyfriend.

* * *

"Bacon and pickles go really well together."

"They don't."

"They do."

"They don't."

"Emily, I _swear_ to you," Rose said happily, munching on her bacon-and-pickle sandwich, "it's possibly the best combination you can have. No arguments."

Well, I must've been crazy to argue with a pregnant girl.

I sighed, grinning and shaking my head at Al beside me. We were at Rose and Scorpius' apartment, which was small, but had two bedrooms and nice furnishing, despite being in a muggle building. I would've loved to live in something like this with Al – you know, when we were ready for that.

But believe it or not, this had been the first time I'd met up with Al for days. Between moving in, meeting new people in my res, test-out exams (so they could decide what classes to put us in) and orientation activities, things had been pretty hectic.

Plus, Al had decided to move in with Adam, so he'd been scarce. Adam had a small apartment in Diagon Alley – not too far from my school – and offered to split the rent. Al told me they were also doing something important involving the ministry, but he hadn't gotten time to tell me.

It had been two weeks since the ministry incident, and it was unnerving that nothing profound had happened. The ministry was still sealed; workers had begin using an abandoned building for day-to-day operations. We still didn't have a new minister of magic. Then, two more things happened.

One: David slipped into a coma.

Two: Holly had gone missing.

Rose seemed quite unconcerned about all this (except for her uncle, obviously). She invited me over to dinner one night while Scorpius was at a late practice. I was relieved, since the cafeteria food was less than edible. Hogwarts definitely spoiled me. Rose is a pretty good cook, thankfully.

She's also a devil in the form of a sweet, innocent little girl.

Rose somehow made me tell her everything that had been happening over the past couple of months. The full story. Right from the broom cupboard when Al proposed (if you could call it that) to when he asked me to be his girlfriend.

Her knowing look was kind of creeping me out.

It occurred to me that she was the only one who knew everything. She knew about David. She knew about Holly when it _happened,_ and she still supported Al and I. That had to be a good sign, right?

Either way, when she heard the news, she was pretty unconcerned.

Maybe she just hated David and Holly that much?

"I think you'd probably want to move Nott to St. Mungo's?" Scorpius put in, ignoring Rose's sandwich woe's. They were sitting on the opposite couch from Al and I. "Don't get me wrong, I hate the bloke, but it seems like Nott is our only lead."

"I'm telling you, he's trying to trick us with the ministry bullshit he's spouting off," Al replied, scowling. "Anyway, there's a Healer in there taking care of him, and they don't want to move him now. No one's sure why he's in a coma, but he's been delirious for days."

"Maybe some spell?" Scorpius suggested.

"Yeah, it seems to me that whoever attacked him is using magic that no one knows about. Maybe, if he's telling the truth, the same people who shut down the ministry."

"Maybe it's foreign."

"What do foreign wizards have against the ministry?"

"You don't have to be foreign to know foreign spells," Scorpius pointed out, putting an arm around Rose. "They could've studied anywhere around the world."

"True…" Al was tracing circles in my hip. He did that a lot, I noticed. "The only thing my mum's told me is that they brought the Order of the Phoenix back, and they don't have any leads."

This was one of the things Al had told me in the little time we spent together that week. He said that he and Adam had been stalking the Order since they weren't allowed in, and had noticed there were meetings happening, but wasn't sure where, or when. Sometime at night, he suspected. They were working on eavesdropping, but they weren't having any luck.

"So I guess until something happens, the best bet is to keep trying to get into the ministry," I said quietly.

"Yeah." Al kept his voice steady, but he couldn't fool me; he was subconsciously gripping me righter. I took his hand, and he exhaled slowly.

"This is depressing," Rose announced, licking her fingers. Scorpius laughed.

"I have to get going, anyway," Al said, nudging me and sending me a meaningful look. One that said, 'come-with-me-or-I'm-snogging-the-crap-out-of-you-right-here.' I rolled my eyes.

"I'm going, too," I agreed grudgingly, standing. "I'll see you two at the party tonight?"

"I'm not going," Rose corrected, picking up her plate and heading to the kitchen. "I need a night off. Scorp's going, though."

"You know…" Scorpius trailed off, glancing to Rose for confirmation. "I think our check-up this week might tell us the sex of the baby."

My eyes lit up. "That's this week?"

"Yeah."

"I'm so excited!" Rose squealed, bounding back into the room and grabbing Scorpius arm. I smiled; he looked so happy and nervous. "You guys will be there, won't you?"

"Wouldn't miss it," I promised as Al lead me out, pulling at my hand impatiently. "See you at school, Rose!"

"Bye! And just so you know," she called as we opened the apartment door, "the neighbours hate it when we snog in the hallways. Just a warning." I shut the door quickly to block out their laughter and to hide my flaming face.

I mean, it _was_ a fair warning.

Especially since barely a second had gone by before Al had his arms wound around my back and into my hair, nearly lifting me off the floor as he kissed me. Hard. And I didn't blame him – a few days were way too long to go without physical contact.

I was such a goner.

"Whoa," I said breathlessly after a few moments. He kissed me again. I grabbed his shirt by the collar to bring him closer, smiling against his lips. "Well, _someone_ missed me."

Al merely grinned and kissed me again.

"Come on," I said, breaking apart and taking his hand. His chest was heaving up and down. Was mine? "Rose and Scorp showed me the roof the other day, it's beautiful up there."

"Sounds great," he agreed, following me down the hall and up the stairwell. "How was orientation week?"

"Good, I answered, smiling. "I'm pretty much all settled, and I met a lot of people. My roommate isn't so bad anymore, but I really wish she'd stop asking me if I could bottle your spit for her."

He wrinkled his brow. "Ew."

"Pretty much." We reached the top floor after a minute and kicked the door open. It was as though everything had just opened up; the roof was mostly empty, surrounded by waist-high walls. We leaned over them at the edges, looking out at the city. We could see miles around muggle London, hundreds of rooftops and cars and people.

"Wow."

"This is almost as good as the view from my apartment," Al said, sliding an arm around my waist and tugging me against him. "I have a fire escape outside my room, and you can see all of Diagon Alley."

"I always enjoyed watching witches and wizards there," I said, smiling. "Some of the older seriously shouldn't be allowed to dress themselves."

"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "It's actually a great place to write. Speaking of which…" I leaned my head back on his shoulder to look at him. He was biting the inside of his cheek. "A lot happened in the past week."

"Like what?"

"I got a job in Flourish and Blotts." He began to play with my hair. "Adam enrolled in a muggle college to study writing. We've been thinking of starting an underground newspaper."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah." He sounded excited. "We've scanned _The Daily Prophet_, and as far as we can see, it's all garbage. Back in the war, _The Quibbler_ was pretty famous for telling the real news, but it was public and easy to trace. I think we can deliver the real news and enchant the paper. But," he added, slumping slightly, "we've had no success actually finding the real news."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Order won't tell me anything, and we haven't found the headquarters." I sent him a questioning look, and he shrugged. "Adam and I have been trying to track them, but we can't find it. And my mum won't tell us anything, so…"

"No news," I concluded dejectedly. "I think a newspaper's a brilliant idea, though."

"Yeah, Adam's really onto something."

"Why'd you move in with him?" I asked curiously, and he laughed. "I mean, not that he's not nice, but you've only known him for a couple of weeks."

"Lily's leaving for Hogwarts on Monday," Al explained, "and my mum decided to move back to The Burrow for the time being. James is moving into his friend's apartment, and Adam offered…" He shrugged again. "He's a good friend. Tolerable."

I laughed and kissed Al's jaw. "I guess now that you're working on the newspaper and trying to eavesdrop for news, you'll be able to work together."

"Exactly." We fell silent, gazing around London, across the rooftops and muggy skies. Al was rubbing circles into my hip again. It was oddly comforting.

I sighed and all but collapsed into him. "Do you wish that we could just… I dunno." I swallowed. "Run away from it all? Just leave and forget?"

"Sometimes." He kissed the top of my head. "With you."

I smiled. "I wouldn't do it. But I like to imagine it sometimes."

"Yeah. Some place far away," he said quietly, deep in thought. "Somewhere with warm weather and an infinite supply of chocolate."

I giggled. I loved that boy. "Can't forget the books, Al."

"Merlin, no." He brought me into his chest, winding his arms around my stomach and burying his nose in my hair as he held me tightly. I wasn't sure he was aware he was swaying us back and forth. "As much as I'd love to escape, I can't."

"I know," I agreed quietly.

"There's always the party tonight." I snorted, and he laughed. "Just a couple of hours of fun," he urged. "Forget all this crap for a bit."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, smiling.

"You can come over after," he said softly, kissing the back of my neck. "See my new apartment. Stay the night."

I froze in his arms.

_Wait. Did he just…_

_No._

_WHAT?_

A part of me was jumping for joy at this. Another part of me? Freaking. OUT.

I mean, what did 'staying the night' mean? Did it still just mean sharing a bed, like we were used to? Somehow, I doubted that. Things were becoming heated, and even though he hadn't seen each other for a week, it was clear that the desire was there. From both of us.

(If Al's hands up my shirt at the moment was any indication.)

And I still wasn't sure, but… I wanted to. A little. Maybe more than a little. But I didn't know if 'staying the night' was code for sex or something else, and I was pretty I was not going to humiliate myself and ask.

At least, not yet.

Gahhhh.

WHAT. DID. THIS. MEAN?

"Sure," I found myself saying, trying to keep my voice from waving, even though my stomach was lurching and my heart had decided to play the bongos. _Oh Merlin, calm down, Emily. Calm down. _"Okay. Why not?"

"Brilliant." He turned me around and kissed me gently, grinning against my lips. Why wouldn't he be, though? I'm pretty sure he'd be just delighted if he thought he was getting laid. Very happy. And not nervous, because he wasn't a virgin, and he wasn't going to wait forever, and probably move on if I kept holding back –

_Don't panic, Emily. Do. Not. Panic._

"I need to go to work," he murmured, eyes still closed as he moved his forehead on top of mine. I was busy trying to regulate my breathing, barely hearing him as he kissed me again and said goodbye. Only after he apparated did I allow myself to go into full panic-frenzy mode.

I was pretty convinced I'd just agreed to have sex with Al.

Holy shit.

* * *

A fact you should know about Jake Corner: he was rich.

About ten years ago, a company that Jake's father owned made it _huge_ – and I mean million-galleons worth. They quickly became one of the richest wizarding families in England, one of the most popular, and Jake… well, he became a bit of a twat.

But the twat had a _really_ nice house.

It was in a secluded sort of neighbourhood – one of those places so far out, you'd think it was a cottage. The houses/cottages were spread so far apart that the loud music wasn't really a problem, or getting caught. As Jake greeted us and led us through the house, I figured out why his party was in the backyard: his house was all marble and glass.

In other words, breakable.

The party was in full swing by the time I arrived. His backyard was enormous; he had a bonfire set up near the house, a small bar at the side near a dance floor and pool in the back. Clearly he hadn't told anyone it was a pool party, because everyone near the pool was in their undergarments.

Clever, Jake.

I suppose he wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing.

Our entire year from Hogwarts was there. I recognized some people I'd met in school that week as well. There were people everywhere, socializing, drinking, smoking, dancing, swimming, laughing and… well… let's just say that some people really needed to put their clothes on – either go home and get some, or stop looking like they're having sex in a public place.

(I had to shut my eyes.)

(_Ew._)

I'd started off looking for Al – he said he'd meet me there around eleven – when I found one of my new dorm neighbours, Connor. He was tall and skinny, with light red hair and freckles, and _incredibly _awkward. But he was always like that. The first time I'd met him, he'd run back into his room in fright when I held out my hand. But everything was okay now, since he figured out I wasn't trying to kill him.

With a handshake.

I didn't want to ask.

"Hey, Connor," I said carefully, trying not to scare him. He jumped up anyway, his khaki's riding up around his ankles as he flew a couple of steps back. I laughed. "Stop, it's just me."

"Hi, Emily," he answered, wrapping his arms around himself and squeezing tightly. I resisted the urge to laugh again. "Have you been here long?"

"No, I just got here," I said. "I'm surprised you're here, actually."

"Cody dragged me here," he grumbled, looking around for his roommate – very _attractive, _muscular roommate. Half the school already wanted him, for the record. "He said I need to get out of the room more."

"You do."

"Chess club starts next week!"

I laughed. "You don't need to go to parties, but maybe you can find friends and go out to eat."

"Sounds quite boring," he said immediately, grimacing. "Shit, here he comes."

"He's not so bad."

"I look like a sack of flour next to him," Connor whined, and I laughed again. Cody grinned at me as he swung an arm around my shoulders; he was much too tall for me, and honestly, I didn't really like being so close to his armpit.

"Hey, Gorgeous," he said, winking. I rolled my eyes and smiled; Cody could literally have anyone he wanted – and he did, by the looks of it – but he liked hitting on me for fun. Sort of like Adam, except I knew Adam would never hook up with just anyone. "What brings you here?"

"Not you," I joked, ducking out from his arm. "Why'd you force Connor to come? He looks miserable."

"Thought he'd let loose for a bit." He forced his drink in his roommate's hands. Connor looked positively terrified. "Come on, mate."

"I hate parties," he mumbled, taking a sip of the drink. "Do you think they have a Gobstone's set anywhere?"

"Nope," Cody answered, rolling his eyes, "but they're playing strip poker by the pool."

"Eurghhh."

Cody rolled his eyes again and turned to me with a smirk. Or a smoulder. Whatever he called his so-called seductive look. "You want to play, Emily?"

"I actually see my boyfriend over there," I said hastily, actually spotting Al. He was speaking to some people I didn't know, but really? Choice between strip poker and interrupting Al's friends?

I'd take the possible social anxiety.

"Ah, the boyfriend." Cody looked fake disappointed, winking at me. "Well, you know where to find me."

"See you later, guys," I said hurriedly, walking away. I liked them. More so when Cody was sober and not flirting with me, but nevertheless, they were nice. I'd met them on the second day I was there. They were fighting over which game console to keep in their room.

Typical, really.

Instead of going to Al, I slipped into the crowd and walked around. I noticed that one of his friends he was talking to was Leah, and even though I _knew_ he didn't like her, I didn't really feel like being jealous of nothing tonight.

I trusted him. It was fine.

It was a good feeling, trusting him.

* * *

I wandered around for a bit before I heard my name. "Hey, Em!" Scorpius greeted, waving me over to the bar. "Do you want something?"

"Soda," I said to the bartender, and turned back to Scorp. "You know what? I think we should catch up."

"Sure," he said, looking pleased as he took his drink and led me to the chairs near the bonfire. As soon as I sat down, he asked, "What's up?"

"The sky," I said, using our old joke. "How's Rose doing with the pregnancy? She's barely told me anything."

"Great," he said happily. His blonde hair was shining in the firelight. "Well, I mean, she gets moody a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He took a sip of his drink. "And sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night, crying about this stuff. Like how she ruined her life… and I mess up sometimes with stuff, and I made her cry by accident…"

"Oh," I said, biting my lip. I'd never seen Rose sad – it must have been heartbreaking for Scorpius to see. "Poor Rose."

"But she'll be fine," he said, smiling. "She loves the baby so much, I can tell."

"Me too," I agreed, taking a sip of my drink. "Have you decided on names?"

"Nope. One thing I can't think of."

"Have you decided a date for the baby shower?"

"Okay, two things I haven't thought of," he admitted.

"What about the baby's nursery?" I asked, fighting to keep from smiling.

He made a face and downed half the bottle of his drink. I reached over and patted his head affectionately. "Bloody hell, when did things get so difficult?" he whined.

"When you knocked up your girlfriend," I teased.

"Remind me not to do that again."

"I bloody well hope not," I said indignantly, "she's your wife!"

And then we were laughing and talking about everything and nothing. Just like old times. You know, back in the days when neither of us was married and Scorpius wasn't having a child and all we did was sit in the tree house in my backyard and eat crisps and grapes. Somehow, it felt exactly the same, even if we weren't five years old anymore.

A lot changes in a year, let alone twelve.

"You know," Scorpius contemplated out loud, downing the last of his second drink, "I had a crush on you when we were fourteen."

My eyes bugged out. "No way."

"I did," he insisted, shrugging.

"Wow." Scorpius had a crush on _me_? Sure, I'd found him attractive, but I'd never let it grow into something more. He was off-limits. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was a spineless twat," he admitted. "It was short-livid, actually. I think we're truly meant to be siblings."

"Or cousin-in-laws," I joked. But still, I wondered what it would have been like to date Scorpius. Would we have worked out and fallen in love? Would we have had any chemistry, or would it have been like kissing my brother?

Dear Merlin, what if _I_ was the one who had been knocked up?

"Oi," he said, nudging me. "You're overthinking again, Em. Stop."

"Right," I said hastily. I told him earlier about the sex thing with Al (who else would I tell? My parents?). Scorpius said, and I quote, '_Em, I don't like the bloke, but I've never seen Potter so respectful towards anyone before. Your problem is that you overthink when you _should _just spit it out and tell Al how you feel_.'

See? Scorpius is a sentimental drunk, I swear.

But if you (over)think about it, Scorpius and Al are actually very similar people. Scorpius is a bit more sneaky, but they are both generally laid-back and act like assholes half the time. They both tend to think logically about things and they have a similar sense of humour. They both put the ones they love before themselves. They weren't the same person, but they were similar – and perhaps that's why they didn't get along.

So who else would I ask for advice, if not Al?

"Hey, I see Scott," Scorpius said suddenly, standing. I'd bet this is why he came; Scott was Scorpius' best friend, and they probably hadn't seen each other in a while. "I'm going to go hang out with him for a bit, okay?"

"Sure," I said, standing.

"Go find lover boy."

"Shut it," I retorted, grinning and giving him a hug. "See you soon, Scorp."

"Bye, Em."

I gave one last wave and began to weave through the people, searching for Al (who'd I lost sight of). I'd just spotted them when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around to find Amy.

Yes. My ex-best friend. At Jake Corner's party.

Crap.

"Hi," I said shortly, trying not to freeze up and seem vulnerable. Her blonde hair was a little dishevelled, her clothes a little off-centre. It was strange; I wasn't used to seeing her any way but absolute perfection. She didn't let anyone see herself like that.

"Hi," she slurred. She was drunk. Great. "I want to – to tell you something."

"Umm…" I raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"You were right." She closed her eyes, trying to stand still on her stilettos. "About David, I mean. You were right."

A chill went up my spine. "What do you mean? What did he do?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely _nothing._" Her eyes snapped open. She looked furious. "On our anniversary. And he didn't even care."

"Oh." I let out a breath; I was relieved he hadn't laid a hand on her. I guess I was the only one he hurt like that. "So you broke up with him?"

"He said he wasn't in love with me, Emily." A look of sadness flashed across her face, but as soon as it happened, it was gone. She flung her arms around me and squeezed me. "Thanks for being my best friend."

I mouthed wordlessly. What the hell? We hadn't been friends for two years. Was she expecting me to forgive her after what she did? Was she expecting that just because David played her too, things were _okay_?

It was like everything that had happened two years ago came flooding back – how she decided I wasn't good enough for _our_ group, how she couldn't be happy that I had my first boyfriend, how she ridiculed me in front of people she used to bully, how no one in Slytherin would look at me in eye anymore.

Everything she did and was responsible for was punching me in the gut, and I didn't want to forgive her. I wanted her to feel miserable and hurt and pathetic as I did. I wanted her to feel as _alone_ as I did.

Except she looked just as broken as I felt back then. Maybe worse.

And it wasn't worth it. I was around better people now, people who cared. I had bigger things to worry about, and there wasn't any point in dwelling in the past and picking apart the people who had done the same to me.

I believed, somehow, that the people who took vengeance on other people got what they deserved in the end. Like I had, with the bullying I had done when I was younger. Amy would learn the hard way of what she did, all on her own.

We were both different people now.

So I let it go.

"I'm going to…" She stumbled backwards, looking around. "I'm going to go hook up with Jake Corner now."

"You do that," I mumbled, pushing past her.

I didn't look back.

* * *

I found Al, Adam and Dom near the pool. Dom was hugging Adam, who looked like he was just about the happiest man alive, underneath the sympathy. I tried not to laugh.

"There you are," Al said in relief, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing me. "I thought you didn't show up. Enjoying the party?"

"I guess," I said, shrugging. I didn't really want to talk about what just happened. "What's up with Dom?"

With that, Dom unattached herself from Adam and latched herself onto me.

Uh oh.

"Umm…" I patted her back awkwardly. Al and Adam were sniggering; I swear they were twins in some alternate universe. "Dom, what happened?"

She let out a stream of unintelligent words.

I stuck out my tongue at the boys. So unhelpful.

Remembering how Rose loved spas and said it'd help any bad mood, I steered her towards the pool, kicking my shoes off sitting us down at the edge. "Come on, let's just dip our feet in," I encouraged gently. "It'll feel nice." She sniffed and nodded.

"Thanks, Emily," she croaked, slipping off her heels and joining me. Her voice sounded all nasally and clogged. "Lysander broke up with me again."

"He did?" I asked, rubbing her back.

"Yeah." She wiped her eyes and let her blonde hair curtain her face. "For good, this time. He said he didn't feel the same anymore and not to go to his school, like I'd planned. He took back our promise ring." I looked down to see a small indent on her finger.

"I'm sorry, Dom," I said sincerely.

"Well, I kind of threw it at him." She leaned her head against my shoulder. "It's really over."

"When'd this happen?"

"A couple of hours ago." She sniffed. "I knew I shouldn't have come. Adam forced me to."

"Yeah, I guess he doesn't really get heartbreak," I contemplated, "but he means well."

"I know."

"I know the wound's still deep, but you deserve more than Lysander. You deserve someone who makes you feel something… special, I guess."

"I don't know anyone who's worth more than him," she said sadly.

Okay, seriously?

She was owling – hugging – a great guy, and she _'doesn't know anyone'_?

"I know there's someone better for you," I said soothingly. "You're great, Dom – you're fierce and loyal and leader. They're very admirable traits."

"They are?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. Was this working? I just wanted her to feel better. "And maybe now you'll be able to pick a career that's not based on Lysander. You'll find someone worth ten of him, someone who makes you feel loved and wanted and won't put you down –"

"Lysander never put me down," she snapped, jerking off my shoulder.

I backtracked. Shit. "Sorry, I just meant – I didn't say –"

"And who are you to be giving advice on _my _life?" she said loudly, attracting attention from onlookers. "What, just because you've got everything figured out, you think you can tell me what's right now me – _who's_ right for me?"

"No, that's not what I meant at all!" I said, panicking. "I meant –"

"No, I was right about you!" she shouted, standing. I stood as well, trying to get a word in, explain that I was just trying to get her to look on the bright side, just trying to help – but she wouldn't have it. "I knew I was right to keep my family away from you!"

"Dom, you have it all wrong, I –"

But before I could set the record straight, she pushed her palms against my shoulders and forced me into the pool.

I shrieked as I fell backwards, my body crashing into the freezing water and feeling chills right to the bone as I was submerged. I spluttered and stood in the shallow pool, the water only coming up to my waist. I heard whooping and cheering and clapping as I pushed my hair out of my face and shivered.

Then a hush came over the crowd. I could faintly hear the music and crowd buzzing in my ears as my thoughts registered in my mind. And then I glanced down at myself.

Water.

Water.

_Water._

My dress had soaked and clung to my body, and though my undergarments weren't transparent, I would've preferred that. Any day, anytime. I clenched my eyes shut and prayed this wasn't happening – it was all a dream, I wasn't wearing a white dress and the spell hadn't worn off with water, like it always did.

Because right there, in the middle of the pool, everyone could see my scars.


	39. Albus: The Baggage

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Albus: The Baggage**

"Have you seen this?"

I glanced up to see Adam holding out a magazine. I was in his aunt's kitchen, hanging out and eating his food (my fridge is empty thanks to him. Might as well return the favour). He'd asked me to edit one of his articles and gave me cookies in return. I was pretty happy with this exchange.

"What is it?" I asked, taking it. I immediately saw what he was talking about: _Witch Weekly, _and on the cover, Emily and I kissing in the middle of Diagon Alley. I began to laugh. "Damn, they caught us."

"Well, if you're going to snog in broad daylight…" Adam sniggered as I threw the magazine across the table and back at him. He winced as it hit his chest. "Bloody hell, it's not my fault you decided to get it on in the middle of the street.

"We '_got it on_' in a robe shop, thank you."

"Not my fault you got caught in the street before you could tear her clothes off."

"Shut up, it's not my fault I'm famous."

"Quit whining, first world problem."

I glared at him. "So, how many people know you love to bake?" I asked casually, stuffing another chocolate chip cookie in my mouth. Crumbs scattered everywhere. "Do you wave this fact around Dom whenever she's around?"

"Don't you say a word about this to _anyone_," he seethed.

I snickered and leaned forward, shoving his article across the table. "Okay, so here's your problem: you're too creative. You're rambling. You're pretty good at not being biased, but you've got to get straight to the point and cut out the fancy shit."

He read over my notes that I'd scribbled in the margins. "Oh."

"You should probably bake for a living instead."

"Fuck."

"I'm _joking_, Puffer." I called him 'Puffer' whenever he was getting too soft. Men aren't soft. They're _manly._ I threw a cookie at him, and it hit him in the chest again. "Just write something else. I haven't a clue to why you'd want to be in journalism if you prefer writing poems and stories."

He exhaled, showing his true Hufflepuff side by puffing out his cheeks. "I suppose I shouldn't. I was thinking of applying to some schools, maybe learn how to write by professionals rather than books."

"How long have you been writing?" I asked.

"A few years."

I snorted. "Mate, you've barely started. Don't worry about being good – just be the best you _can_ be, and work your ass off."

"All right," he said, throwing the cookie back at me. It hit my in the shoulder, and it kind of hurt… not that I'd _admit_ that. "How'd you get so good at writing, hot shot?"

"Natural talent."

He rolled his eyes.

I laughed. "I've been writing stories since I learned how to write. I got a job at _The Daily Prophet_ because of my dad, and I learned a lot from the writers there. But they're heavily influenced by the ministry, which really pisses me off."

He nodded. "Any leads on your dad?"

"No," I said dejectedly. Teddy had been dropping by my house numerous times those days, but he only had long faces and looks of frustration.

I was pretty frustrated, too. My mum absolutely refused to let us in on anything that was going on - not even with my dad. I think she was just trying to be strong for my siblings, but we weren't stupid; we knew she didn't have a clue where he was... or if he was alive. I tried not to think about that; my dad's a hero. He _had_ to be alive. There wasn't any other choice.

I felt pretty helpless, and there was nothing to do about it. I sometimes (often) went to the ministry and circled around it, trying to find a way in, a loophole... all I could see that there were a lot of aurors around, trying to do the same thing.

All in all, I tried not to worry too much about my dad.

It was hard.

"What about David?" Adam asked.

"He's still in my basement," I told him. "My mum and this Healer are treating him. He's absolutely delirious, he keeps saying the same lies over and over."

"I still don't understand why you don't trust him," Adam said, standing and beginning to pace. "Instincts – yes, he's an asshole. Everyone can see that. But I don't see any reason to think that what he's saying isn't the truth."

"It's not my secret to tell."

"You've said that," he retorted, "and yet, it's not convincing."

"I'm not telling you, Adam," I said crossly.

"I _know_ it's something to do with Emily – even if you keep denying it," he added quickly before I could say anything. I scowled; did he _have_ to be so perceptive? He sat back down, looking at me straight in the eye. "Are you jealous?"

"What?" I snapped. "No."

He took a deep thought. "Then, maybe… have you considered that…"

"That _what_?"

"Girls are dramatic," he said carefully, leaning forwards with a knowing look in his eyes. I had never wanted to punch him so badly before; what did he know? He didn't know a fucking thing. And yet, he was acting as though he did. "Maybe she over dramatized their relationship, Al."

"You don't know _shit_," I spat, standing up.

"Bloody hell, it was a relationship at fifteen years old!" he shouted, and I was glad his aunt was at work and couldn't hear this. "How bad could it have been?"

"Bad enough!" I shouted back, striding out of the kitchen.

"Oh please," he said in disbelief. "Girls are overdramatic. What did he do? Cheat? I know plenty of people who've cheated, but it doesn't mean they lie about everything, and David's in serious pain, he wouldn't lie!"

I spun around, resisting the urge to pull out my wand. "Back the _fuck _off."

"Come _on_, Al! It's not like he hit her, or – shit." He'd cut off when I froze, gripping my hands tightly in fists and clenching my eyes shut. "He _hit_ her?"

"If you tell her I told you," I said quietly, shaking, "I swear, I will –"

"Holy mother of Merlin." Adam leaned into the wall, steadying himself. Shock was etched in his features. "At fifteen – bloody hell – he just…"

"Do me a favour and shut up," I said wearily.

He closed his eyes. "I understand why you don't trust him."

"Good."

"We should get veritaserum or something, in that case," he contemplated, looking back to me. He looked incredibly guilty – but I suppose it wasn't really his fault. "I'm not sure how to get it, it's banned nearly everywhere, and it takes forever to brew…"

I met his eyes. "That's not a bad idea." He grinned in relief. "My brother – he was involved with some drug dealing a couple of years ago… I'll ask him."

"We'll find it," he said confidently.

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "I hope so… do you have _The Daily Prophet_ around here?"

When we headed back into the kitchen and he dug it up from a pile of papers on the kitchen counter, he pushed it towards me. I sat at the table and flipped through it, scanning the articles; as I'd suspected, whoever was in the ministry infiltrated the paper.

It was so easy for them to do; there was talk of a new regime, change, how a new society would run – and, funnily enough, there was nothing that actually described it. I ripped up an article that explained "the bad" that my dad had supposedly done.

"Sorry, Al," Adam said sadly, watching me, "but you have to stay calm, okay?"

"Yeah, I know," I muttered irritably, throwing the remains of the paper aside. "I just wish we didn't have to stay home and do nothing while my mum's hiding the Order's new actions and the ministry's still sealed and people are being brainwashed by this shit –"

"Wait, we could – holy shit, we could write our own newspaper!" Adam exclaimed excitedly, his face shining as through there were a light bulb lit over his head.

I stared at him. "_What_?"

"Think about it!" He started pacing again. "We know some of the people in the Order – your mum, Teddy, Victoire… maybe we can convince one of them to be our source of information. Or maybe we could somehow eavesdrop in on the meeting. Find out where the headquarters are and camp out there."

"And then what?" I asked. "Who'd want to read our newspaper? Not to mention it'd be inconsistent, and really _short…_"

"People care about getting the right information," Adam argued. "You don't give them enough credit. In the last war, _The Quibbler_ was one of the strongest points because it defended your dad rather than praising Voldemort."

"Yeah, this sort of reminds me of that. And this radio station my Uncle Ron told me about. He said that it was one of the most reliable sources of information during that time, but it was password protected."

"To keep Voldemort off their trail." I nodded. "Do you think they'd try to track us down, Al?"

I shrugged. "Probably. I don't know how they infiltrated _The Daily Prophet _and kept it quiet."

"So the newspaper would have to be underground, then."

"Yeah," I said. "I dunno how we're going to get information. We might have to steal it. We may not even fill a page."

"So be it," he announced confidently. "Better than nothing."

"I suppose."

Adam leaned against the kitchen counter. "Do… do you think there'll be another war?"

I hesitated. This was something that was on my mind a lot. The Order of the Phoenix was called back only in times of war, from what I've heard. There wasn't a word from my dad in the past week, and it was possible that there would be a war over it.

It was a possibility, and that was enough.

"I dunno," I said quietly, rubbing my eyes underneath my glasses. "But I guess we have to find out."

He dropped back into his chair. "Al, we've got to sneak into one of those meetings."

"You mean defying my mum's orders, delving into private matters and potentially putting our lives in danger?"

"Yep."

I grinned. "I'm in."

* * *

Then, it was as though everything had suddenly piled on top of each other.

Lily was going back to Hogwarts in a week. James was moving into his friend's apartment. Mum was moving into The Burrow. Adam asked me to move in with him in his new apartment in Diagon Alley. The Healer was living in our empty house because he didn't want to move David, who'd slipped into a coma.

As soon as Adam and I moved in, I went searching for a job and landed one in Flourish and Blotts. He'd gotten one as a waiter in one of the restaurants and enrolled in a muggle school for creative writing. We spent all our free time with moving, packing or trying to track down the Order.

We met up with Xenophilius Lovegood at one point during the week, trying to get publishing advice. He helped us pick out a printer and gave us loads of formatting tips. Then he tried to feed us, and we left – but it was a pretty valuable experience.

Then… Dom. Sheesh. It seemed that she was always at the apartment, crying to Adam or I – mostly Adam, thankfully – about every time Lysander broke up with her. I didn't know what was going on, but they'd gotten together and broken up so many times in the span of one week, I was tempted to just go to Lysander and demand what was going on.

Adam was happy, though. Asshole.

I only saw Emily twice that week – she was busy, too. I was hoping that we weren't going to be too busy for too long; I wanted to involve her in what was going on, but she needed to focus on school. Plus, it was selfish, but I didn't really want her to get hurt, so I was sort of happy she wasn't involved.

But she always had good ideas. I really missed her.

Not that I'd admit that.

Besides, she'd figured that out herself.

* * *

I'd finished unpacking on Saturday night, just before the party. Emily was sleeping over, and even though she knew I was messy, I thought It'd probably be a good idea to clean. I wasn't trying to impress her. Shut up.

"What's that?"

I jumped as I heard my sister's voice in my bedroom. I smiled. I took Emily's advice and decided to give Lily some space, and whenever she'd come around, I would apologize and give her the gift.

"Hey Lils," I greeted as she came in and sat on my bed.

"What's that?" she repeated, pointing to the small box I was trying to wrap. "Merlin, Al, just put a bow on it. We go over this every Christmas: you stink at wrapping."

"Right," I said hastily, ripping off the wrapping and handing the box to Lily. "It's for Emily's birthday. I never gave her anything. D'you think she'll like it?"

She opened the box and held out the small heart pendent in the palm of her hand. The heart was gold, with tiny silver designs around it. "Holy crap, Al, how much it cost?"

"Not that much, actually."

Lily shook it. "You tampered with it, didn't you?"

"How can you tell?" I asked, searching for a bow in my desk drawer.

She shrugged. "Knowing you."

I laughed. Lily placed the pendent back in the box and held it out to me as I pressed a purple bow on top of it. "Do you think she'll like it?"

"I think she'll love it," she said cheerfully, hugging her knees to her chest. "I'm glad you're together. I really like Emily. She makes you smile a lot more."

"She does?" I asked, sitting beside her.

"She was kind of scary when I was in first year. But she's okay now."

"Cheers," I said, laughing again. "She was kind of scary when I met her. But I really love her now."

Lily gaped at me as I slowly realized what I just said.

Or rather, admitted.

Huh.

I love her.

_I. Love. Her._

It didn't seem so difficult, honestly. Or scary. Why was I afraid of love?

"Wow, Al," Lily said softly, wrapping her arms around my middle. "Did you just figure that out? You look like someone just hit you 'round the head with a beater's bat."

"I'm fine." I took a deep breath. I love Emily. Yeah. Made sense, to be honest.

"Have you told her?" Lily asked.

"Of course not."

"Maybe you should," she said, smiling and kissing my cheek. "I'm proud of you, Al."

I gave a nervous laugh and ran a hand through my hair. I felt flustered and jittery, for some reason. "Thanks, I guess. Shit, I just figured it out. I'm not going to tell her tonight."

"Is that why you're dressed up?" she asked, leaning back and looking at my attire. "Are you going out with her tonight?"

"No, I'm going to a party."

"Can I come?"

"Sure," I said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I think it's mostly my age and up. Maybe if you got Lorcan to take you?"

Lily shook her head. "I broke up with him a few days ago."

"Oh." I felt uneasy. "It wasn't because of what I did at the club, was it? I apologized for that, I swear."

"No…" She leaned her head on my shoulder. She looked so sad. "He said it was just a summer fling… or implied it, anyway. So I broke up with him before he could break up with me."

"Oh."

"Besides, there's only a few days of summer left. Might as well get the heartbreak over with now."

"I'm sorry, Lily," I said quietly, and she wrapped her arms around me. I could tell she was on the verge of tears. "I can punch him for you, if you want."

"It's okay, he wasn't really into books."

"No one's into books as much as you," I joked and she gave me a watery smile. I kissed her forehead gently and squeezed her hard. "Yeah, I'm definitely beating him up."

"You couldn't hurt a fly," she said, sniffling.

Oh, how wrong she was.

"I have something that might cheer you up a bit," I said, pulling out of her embrace. I went back to my desk and pulled out her badly wrapped book. Should've put a bow on this one, too. I gave it to her, grinning sheepishly. "It didn't escape my wrapping wrath, but here you go."

She put down the book without unwrapping it and flung her arms around me. "Thanks, Al."

"Are you going to tell me why you were mad at me?" I asked hopefully.

She shrugged, still holding me. "I just missed you."

Ouch.

I suddenly felt very, _very_ guilty.

"I'm sorry," I said again, squeezing her hard. "And now you're going back to Hogwarts. Shit, I'm really sorry, Lils."

"It's okay."

"We can write letters if you want," I offered. She smiled and nodded. "Maybe you should keep Mum company tonight?"

"I will," she agreed. "Have fun tonight."

* * *

I wasn't quite sure 'fun' was the word.

You know how you have those friends that you haven't seen for a bit, and after a while, you start to wonder why you haven't tried to meet up with them – and then you finally do?

I think that's how you could describe my friends from Gryffindor.

Royce was probably my best friend back then. Sort of. I mean, we talked about Quidditch and food and girls and homework, but it's not as though I felt any need to owl him after the summer ended. Granted, I'd been a bit busy, but if I wanted to, I would've seen him. And I didn't.

He wasn't a bad guy, not at all. We used to sit at the back of class and suck on sugar quills and talk about getting out of Hogwarts. I suppose that was our thing: Life after Hogwarts and the Great Beyond. We both knew we didn't want to study anymore, but unlike me, Royce didn't exactly get the best grades. I had no idea what he ended up doing. He was very sarcastic and had a pessimistic outlook on life – one that more than once clashed with mine.

I mean, come on. Life's not _that_ bad.

My other friend, Sarah, had the biggest crush on Royce. Honestly, I didn't know how he went through seventeen years of being best friends and neighbours and _not_ notice how this girl was falling all over him. Nevertheless, despite being head-over-heels over Royce, Sarah was pretty cool. She was my potions partner for the past two years and helped me make up some pretty great predictions for Divination. She had a wicked imagination.

The girl _Royce_ had a crush on was, unfortunately, Leah. Not to say she wasn't a nice girl – she was. She was on the Quidditch team and made a great chaser. She was tiny but dangerous, and she and Sarah were best friends. The problem was that they effectively created a sort-of love triangle, since Sarah resented Leah for being the obvious object of Royce's affections, and she…

Well, it was obvious to me at the party that she liked _me._

Emily was so right about that.

How did I not see that before?

So there I was, talking to my three friends, remembering the reason that I stopped talking to them: they were _dull_. And the way that Leah was touching my arm suggested that she was drunk and wanted to do as little talking as possible.

_Where's Emily when I need her?_

"So," I said awkwardly, breaking the silence, and pulling my arm out of Leah's grip, "what have you guys been up to this summer?"

"I've been working," Royce said cheerfully (for him, anyway), taking a large sip of his drink. "I've been overseas for the past two months, interning with Rolf Scamander. We've been looking at some fascinating creatures, and we'll be putting our research into writing in September."

"Sounds great," I said, remembering how he always liked Care of Magical Creatures. I never thought that he'd actually try to make use of that interest, but he had always had a particular interest in travelling. It was probably a selling point. "Whereabouts?"

"Greece and Egypt." He went a little pink in the face when he glanced beside him. "Sarah visited."

"Uhhhh…" I shrugged, taking a swing of my drink. "Okay."

"We're together now," he clarified nervously, sliding an arm around her waist. Sarah looked extremely pleased, hiding her smile in her drink. "As of last month."

"Congrats," I said, trying to be more enthusiastic. And failing.

Merlin, they were so dull.

"I've been looking at curse breaking in Egypt," Sarah put in. "I'm going back in a few days."

"Long distance?" Leah asked, looking impressed. Leah was probably impressed that people could have a relationship beyond three months, anyway. "Do you use that neat muggle technology when you can look at a screen and see each other?"

"Yeah," he answered, turning red again for some strange reason. "I'm thinking of going back to Egypt in December, so it won't be so bad."

"Good luck." I was almost finished with my first drink already. This was sad. "What about you, Leah? What have you been up to?"

"I've been on vacation in New Zealand," she answered, flipping her hair. "Do you like my tan?"

"Uhh, sure."

"Royce, wanna dance?" Sarah said quickly. I didn't blame her; the awkwardness was practically suffocating. She grabbed his arm and led him off towards the dance floor. Then I realized that Leah was batting her eyelashes and giving me this wistful look and realized that I had to get out before I had to dance with her.

She was way too drunk to notice my reluctance.

"I need to go," I blurted out, straining my neck so I could see over people. I thankfully, I spotted Adam speaking to Dom and made a run for it before Leah could protest… or attack me.

"Hey," I said breathlessly when I reached them. I threw my empty bottle into a nearby trashcan and jacked Adam's drink, taking a long swing. "What's going on?"

"Umm… are you okay, Al?" Adam asked tentatively as he watched me down his drink. "You look a little freaked out."

I swallowed and nodded. "I think Leah's going to sexually harass me."

Adam snorted and continued to rub circles into Dom's back. "Whatever, Al."

I took one look at Dom's tear-streaked face and groaned. "Seriously? He broke up with you again?"

She wailed and threw her arms around my neck. I staggered backwards. "For good this time, Al," she sobbed in my ear. "It's over. We're never going to get back together again."

"I'm sure that's what the boy who cried wolf said, too," I muttered, and she cried harder. "Merlin, Dom, you need to move on."

She stepped back and gave several, loud sniffs. "I need some time."

"In the meantime, hug _Adam,_ not me," I told her, and she threw herself on him.

It was pretty safe to say how relieved I was when Emily _finally_ showed – and then, miraculously, she'd somehow led Dom away. Adam took this opportunity to quickly drag me back to the bar.

* * *

"Adam, you are _letting_ yourself be friend zoned," I told him after he ordered. "Dom is never going to see you as more than just another male cousin of hers."

"That's not going to happen," he said, but looked a little worried.

"Plus, she's just being pathetic." Whatever alcohol I drank must've been pretty strong; my filter was already fading slightly. "She shouldn't have gotten back with him the first time, and I think they've broken up and gotten back together every day for the past two weeks by now –"

"Al, _there_ you are!" I groaned inwardly as Leah came bouncing up to me. Adam smirked as she grabbed onto my arm. "Why'd you run away earlier? Let's dance!" She yanked me forward towards the dance floor, then pulled me down so she could whisper in my ear. "I like _dirty _dancing."

Holy fucking shit.

"I can't!" I said loudly, pulling away. Ah, grass. Thank you for not being the dance floor. "No, Leah, I'm sorry. I can't."

"Why not?" she asked sadly, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout.

"I'm really not interested in you like that, I'm sorry –" I cut off when I felt a hand on my shoulder, pressing gently against me. _Dear Merlin, what now_? I spun around.

Bloody. Hell.

Standing in front of me was Emily, soaked from top to bottom – in a _white_ dress. Her undergarments weren't transparent, but everything else was clear and sticking to her body. Her scars were visible, contrasting against her skin and the dress. She was shivering.

"Al, please let me use your wand," she whispered, avoiding my eyes.

I couldn't stop staring.

"Al, _please_." Her voice was harsh and shaking, her eyes blazing as though she was trying very hard not to lose control. "I need your wand. I left mine at home."

It was entering my brain, but wasn't registering.

"Al!" she shouted, catching the attention of onlookers who hadn't noticed her before. Emily lowered her voice, staring straight into my eyes. She looked desperate and furious and looked as though she wanted to cry and scream at the same time. There was something violent about her expression; I don't think I'd ever seen her so angry.

Leah, who had sobered a little from shock, had suddenly thrust her wand towards Emily. She took it, thanked her and quickly dried her clothes. Her scars were no longer visible, but it was too late.

Everyone had seen them.

"Emily," I croaked as she gave Leah back her wand, "what happened?"

"Dom." Her fists were clenching as she shook, her head dropping towards the ground. "Dom, she – she pushed me into the pool and ran –"

"She did _what_?"

The words were stolen out of my mouth from Adam. In the most heartbreaking sense. His voice cracked as he spoke them, looking as though the rug had been ripped from right underneath him. He looked devastated.

"I need to find her," Emily muttered, looking around determinedly. "She ran away – she has to be here somewhere –" She cut off as Adam suddenly sprinted away, pushing his way through the crowd. She quickly followed, finding my hand and pulling me along.

I saw flashes of Dom's blonde hair appearing, making her way across the backyard and to the house. She threw the lock open on the fence and scrambled into the alley at the side of the house. Adam rushed forward and shut the fence behind him.

"Why the hell did he do that?" Emily shouted as we reached the fence, almost slamming into it. "Fucking asshole –"

"Wait!" I shouted over her, bringing a hand over her mouth. "Hang on." I pushed my hands on top of the fence and pulled my body upwards; about halfway to the front, Dom and Adam were arguing.

"Come on, quietly," I muttered, unlocking the fence slowly. I quickly pulled Emily into the opposite side of the house – the bushes – and ducked in between them so Dom and Adam couldn't see us. We crept along until we were in earshot.

"… and you can't keep doing this!"

"I didn't mean to – _expose _her!" Dom shouted, desperation in her voice. "I didn't know what she had on her stomach, I didn't mean to hurt her – I'm fucking _drunk_ for Merlin's sake, I don't even know what I was saying –"

"You think that's an excuse?" he bellowed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? To someone who was trying to _help _you?"

She shrank under his gaze. "Adam, I didn't mean –"

"Bloody hell, you have to be the _worst_ Gryffindor I've met!" he shouted. She shrank further, her back hitting against the side of the house. I couldn't see in the dark, but Adam looked like he was on the verge of tears. "You let some asshole treat you like shit for two years and you follow him around? He breaks up with you _multiple_ times in humiliating ways, insulting you in the process, and you _still_ take him back! You let him walk all over you!"

Dom was crying by now. "You don't know what it's like to be in love!"

"The hell I don't!" His voice was wavering, like it was hanging on a thread, waiting to snap. "Not everyone has a fucking sob story, but _everyone's_ gone through shit, Dom, and everyone learns to deal with it!"

"But –"

"Whatever Emily said to you wasn't as bad as she's gotten, okay? And she didn't even mean it!"

"Oh, don't act like she's so innocent!" Dom shrieked through her tears. "Do you know how badly her friends picked on me? She made me miserable for three years!"

Emily gripped my hand tightly.

"People change." Adam's voice had suddenly become much quieter. Broken. "People change all the time. You changed. Emily changed. Lysander changed."

Dom was shaking her head. "No, people never change –"

"They do. They're supposed to. They're supposed to grow up." He slowly stepped back, away from Dom against the wall. "I'm done, okay? You're not the person I thought you were."

"No, Adam –"

"I'm out of here." And then he was running towards the front of the house, leaving Dom to slide down against the wall, shaking violently with every sob.

We didn't move for several seconds; I didn't think Emily was breathing. Slowly, she stood, pulling me with her to where Dom was crying. My legs felt like lead. Emily didn't seem to notice the scratches on her arms and legs from the bushes. She let go of my hand and held it out for Dom.

Dom's breath hitched, staring back and forth from Emily's hand to her face.

"Just take it," Emily mumbled. She was still trembling all over, shivering from the cold, breathing heavily to try to stay in control. "We'll get you home."

"But I…" Dom seemed at a loss. "Emily, I just –"

"I know what you did." She shook her hand a little. "Come on."

"Emily, I…" Dom stood slowly, pushing herself up from the grass by herself. She wiped her tears away. "Emily, I didn't mean to. I swear. I shouldn't have done it."

"I know you didn't mean to do what you did," she said quietly, her voice breathy and shaky. On the edge. "I know you only meant to act like a bratty, drunk child."

"I did." She was crying again. "Merlin, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry for doing it, I'm sorry for running away and not helping you, I'm drunk and I –"

"Shut up," Emily snapped, retracting her hand. I understood her change in demeanour; she didn't want to hear the excuse. The drink had pushed Dom to do it, but there was no denying the fact that the act was still in her. She would've done it, drunk or not.

"I'm so sorry," Dom whispered.

Emily sighed and held her hand out again. "Come on, we're taking you home."

* * *

We helped Dom floo back to her home before flooing back to my apartment. Emily was still furious; her face was pink and she kept clenching and unclenching her fists. That look in her eyes was terrifying. I was afraid to touch her – as if it would be the thing that tipped her over.

"Do you want to go home?" I asked carefully, tapping the kitchen counter nervously. She shook her head. "Are you sure? I mean, it's fine…"

"No, I want to stay with you," she said. Her voice was flat. Controlled, and overly so.

"Okay," I said uneasily. I hoped she wasn't angry with me. "Do you have a change of clothes?" She shook her head and shivered, looking down at her dress again. Like she was still worried it was transparent. "You can borrow something of mine."

"Please," she whispered, not meeting my eyes. She walked around the apartment, taking in the living room and kitchen, peeking around. "You picked a nice place."

"Adam… did…" My voice faltered. Where was Adam? His door was shut – perhaps he was already in there?

I shook my head to clear it and lead her towards my bedroom, pulling my dresser open and finding a t-shirt. She took it as I searched for pyjamas. "Em, I don't think I have… any pants that fit you…"

"I can take this," she said, leaning down and pulling out a pair of striped pyjamas. "I'll just pull the drawstring."

"Sure." She still wasn't looking at me, and it was unnerving. "Erm. You can change first… the bathroom's right over here…"

"Thanks." She hurried out. I sat down at the edge of my bed, squeezing my head in between my palms. Merlin, I knew what to do when Emily was happy, irritable, sad, crying… but not angry. She was never usually so angry. She looked as though she wanted to punch something, and hard.

I was not a suitable punching bag.

I stepped into the hallway and stared at Adam's door for a couple of moments before knocking lightly. Nothing. I quietly and slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a couple of inches, just to see if he was in there.

He was. But he wasn't asleep. He was lying down with the lights on, staring at the ceiling.

"Do you need something, Al?" he asked. Merlin, he sounded so sad.

"No." I paused. "Do you?"

He shook his head. "Just… close the door, okay?"

"Okay." I backed out of the room and closed it just as Emily came out of the bathroom. She looked considerably less angry, but she wasn't okay. Not yet. She looked better in my pyjamas than I did. "You all right?"

She nodded, staring at her folded dress in her hands. "Is Adam okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. I think he just needs some time alone." I went back into my room to find my pyjamas; Emily placed her dress on my table and looked around.

"Can I borrow a sweatshirt, too?" she asked, and I glanced over; she was still shivering since her hair was damp. I nodded and gestured towards the closet before going into the bathroom to change.

When I got back, I noticed that she'd opened the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. I thought she wanted to sleep – it was nearly two in the morning – but I supposed she was still angry. I grabbed her birthday present and a blanket, hoping that maybe I could cheer her up before she crashed.

Emily was sitting right outside the window, leaning over and looking around Diagon Alley. She let me come up behind her, lift her onto my lap, wrap the blanket around her and hold her against my chest.

She was still shaking.

"Emily?" She hummed in response. "I have something for you."

"What?"

"I never got you anything for your birthday." I brought the box around on her lap and dropped my chin onto her shoulder. "It's a month late, but I hope you like it."

Her breath hitched as she opened the box and found the pendent. "Al…"

"I charmed it," I said nervously, my heart starting to beat like crazy in my chest. "I read a lot of books on healing in the past couple of weeks, and I just tried something… and I think it works. I'm about ninety-nine percent sure."

"What does it do?" she asked breathlessly.

"It, umm…" I took the pendent from her and reached to her neck where my chain was. For the first time, I undid the clasp and looped the pendent around so it dropped onto her chest. I locked the clasp again and cleared my throat. "I wish I'd given it to you sooner…"

"Al, what –"

"It makes your bruises invisible."

Emily's jaw dropped open – I wasn't completely sure to be honest, I couldn't see her face – and she froze. I watched as she numbly took the pendent between her fingers, feeling it.

"I mean…" I scratched the back of my neck. "It makes them invisible… to other people. I knew they bothered you, but I couldn't find anywhere how to make them go away… so as long as you're wearing the pendent, no one can see them. Except for you. And I cast the spell, so I can see them, too…"

She turned in my lap; she looked so shocked that I was worried she was going to stay that way for a while. I watched as she felt the pendent in between her fingers, tracing over the intricate designs, and then staring back at me in wonder, and all the while she was still shaking…

"Everyone saw."

Her voice had come out raspy and scratched, like there was something stuck in her throat. She met my eyes, uneasily, guiltily, like she didn't want me to see something.

"Everyone saw." Her forehead dropped onto my chest, her fists clenching the ends of her sleeves. "Al, everyone saw, after all these years of hiding it, everyone saw me…"

"Emily," I breathed, panicking, because I didn't know what to say.

"Al, they saw…" Her voice broke as she spoke. "Everyone, they saw… they _know…_"

She collapsed into me as she slipped over the edge, and suddenly it was beyond anger, it was… pain. Humiliation. I watched as Emily broke down in front of me, beginning to cry short sobs, as though the tears were being forcefully wrenched away from her, like someone had decided to expose her vulnerability to everyone.

And suddenly, I was selfish and didn't want to be that person to see it. It was too hard. I didn't want to see her so devastated; I didn't want to see everything fall apart. It was as though something was ploughing a hole through my gut, like she sobbed and something stabbed me, and I didn't want that, I didn't want to be responsible.

And at the same time, I wanted to be the one to hold her.

So I did. I didn't know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut. I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry, because she needed to. Because even if I didn't ever want to see her upset, she was, and I didn't know what to do, so I just held her tighter and let her, hoping that she would tear me up too badly.

I didn't know how long she cried silently into my t-shirt until she was finally just breathing heavily. She cleared her throat, but she could still only whisper. "I was just so… _angry_ at her. Even though I knew she didn't mean it, she… I trusted her."

I stayed silent, and she gripped me tightly and buried her face back in my shirt. "I feel like… like I'm naked, almost." She gave a hollow laugh. "Like she just… threw everything I had… just threw it all away…"

"Emily," I said, suddenly finding my voice. "It'll be okay."

"How?"

"I don't know." I rubbed her back. "I know it'll be okay, though. It will. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I won't, then." I watched as ran her fingers over the pendent again.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"No problem. Honestly. I'm just relieved you like it."

"As if I couldn't love it already." She chuckled lightly and pressed her cheek to my chest. "I suppose this isn't what you had in mind when you asked me to stay over."

"Not really, no," I said, keeping my voice light.

She sighed. "I'm sorry… I didn't plan this… I mean, I guess I should just be honest right now." I stopped rubbing her back, looking at her in confusion. She looked away. "I'm not exactly ready to have sex yet."

… what?

Where did _that_ come from?

"Umm." Something had definitely lodged itself in my throat now. Why was she telling me this? "All right."

"I hope that's okay, she whispered, clenching her eyes shut. "I'm sorry… I'm just not ready for that yet."

"Yeah," I found myself saying. "Of course it's okay. I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Especially since I wasn't even considering the possibility of sex right now. Fantasizing? Yes. Potential? Not for a while. Even _I _didn't think I was ready yet. "Why is this coming up?"

Her eyes flickered to mine in surprise. "I thought... so when you asked me to stay the night... you just meant sleeping?"

I turned red. "Yeah, kind of." I squeezed her closer to me and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Em, it's been two months. We'll wait as long as you want. Don't worry about it."

"You'll… you'll actually wait?" she asked, still sounding surprised. And that really bugged me, for some reason.

"Yeah," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Even a year?"

"Yeah…" I shrugged. It would suck, that's for sure. "I mean, it's not like we could do it if you're _not_ ready."

"But…" I could see her blushing heavily, even in the dark. "You won't… I dunno, move on? You'd actually wait?"

I stared at her. "_What_?"

"I heard that guys won't wait if the girls want to," she blurted out in a rush.

"Who said I wouldn't wait?" I asked, confused.

"I mean…" She looked down to her lap. "David… when we were dating… I wasn't ready to do it, and he said that guys won't wait forever, that they'd move on if…"

My jaw dropped.

That. _Asshole._

"I wouldn't… bloody hell, that's… of _course_ I'd wait!" I spluttered, not even sure of the words I was saying. "He doesn't know what he's talking about – I wish I'd waited –"

"You do?" Emily interrupted, eyes wide.

"Yes!" I burst out, my face warming. "I mean, I've only done it once and it was horrible – I'm practically as much of a virgin as you are –"

"Who was it with?"

I grimaced. "Holly. It was a disaster, everything that followed was a disaster –"

"Were you in love with her?"

Emily voice was so quiet and defenceless that I had to stop and look at her. Really look. And it dawned on me that maybe this was why she was acting so strange, that maybe the fact that I hadn't told her any of these things made her nervous.

And I was in love with her.

And here's the thing: I knew that if I really wanted to be with her, I had to tell her sometime. Unlike sex, she couldn't be that patient - after all, she'd already told me what happened to her. I kind of owed it to her. It was just me who was being an wuss and not facing up to what I did, because I always just shoved everything to the back of my head. Like with my brains. James. Holly. My dad. I just pretended it wasn't bothering me, and it didn't. But Emily wouldn't wait forever. I _knew _that. There was a part of me that had been nagging me to tell her for weeks, now, and I knew that I had to tell her. I couldn't just keep her hanging. It was the right thing to do.

She deserved to know everything, didn't she?

I needed to tell her. Once and for all.

"When I was little… I didn't actually want to be a writer," I began. Emily shot me a questioning look, but I continued anyway. "I wanted to be a Healer, or an auror. Because I wanted to help people. I wanted to be just like my dad and get these people coming up to me and thanking me for what I did. I didn't know why. I just wanted it so badly.

"I started dating Holly in my fifth year," I said, looking down at my lap. "I fancied her for a whole year before. She was normal, then. Honestly. She was like any other girl… you know, preparing for O.W.L.'s, hanging out with friends. There wasn't any creepy stalking or sniffing going on. I asked her out, and we started dating.

"At first, things were fine. We went out on Hogsmeade. We held hands. I walked her to class. You know, normal stuff. I never met her dad since he was so busy – I mean, he was the Minister of Magic, so I guess that's justified – but things were going well." I shrugged. "I guess we moved too fast."

Emily spoke up. "You did?"

"Yeah." I still didn't look at her. It was like everything was spilling out, like everything I'd shoved to the back of my head and sworn I'd never think about – that if I didn't think about it, it never happened – opened and came out.

I'd started. I couldn't stop.

"A little while after Christmas… I'm not sure exactly when… one minute we were snogging, the next minute, we were going way too far… I don't know why I did it." My cheeks began to burn with shame. "I was fifteen. I was really cocky. I guess I just wanted to have said I did it. But it was really bad, really awkward… and afterwards, she asked if I loved her."

Emily tensed.

"I told her I did," I said quietly, "but I didn't. And I knew it then. I lied."

My hands were shaking now.

"I think she knew I was lying," I told her. "Things weren't the same after that. She started getting really possessive… and clingy… even around my guy friends. Around my cousins. I didn't know what was wrong, and I tried to talk to her about it, but it was never… it never made any sense…"

"Did she…"

"She said it was my fault." I could feel my eyes stinging as I remembered. "A few months later, I wanted to break up, and I wanted her to get help, and she said it was my fault. That I did it. I was the reason she changed. I was the person who needed help."

"But –"

"It's my fault. I was the one who ruined her."

Emily fell silent.

Everything was becoming blurry. "I couldn't take it, okay? I felt so guilty… I haven't dated anyone since her. I couldn't stand knowing that it was me who did that to her, and I still don't know what I did. I didn't want to risk it, because… I was supposed to save people, not ruin them. What if I hurt someone else?"

Emily's eyes snapped up. I could barely see them through my tears.

"Is that why you asked me to get over you?" she asked.

I nodded. My throat was constricting and it was becoming harder and harder to speak. "I never meant to fancy you, I just… you made me forget whatever I did, and then… the fountain. We fell in and you hurt your head, and I just… what if I hurt you again?"

"But then…" She sniffed; she was crying, too. "Why didn't you tell me then?"

"I didn't want to talk about it." I shook my head. "Fuck, I don't even want to talk about it now. It's just… too hard to think about… that I could hurt someone that badly without knowing what I did? And I don't want to hurt you, I hate when you're hurt…"

"So why…" Emily wiped her eyes. "Why now?"

_And why not before?_

She knew me better than anyone else. I trusted her. I knew who I was around her, I felt so… I dunno. Relaxed. Okay. I was nervous sometimes, but I also knew that whatever I said… it'd be okay. I was better around her. I loved being around her.

I closed my eyes. "You deserve to know… I had to tell you, I want to be with you, I…"

_I love you._

Suddenly, Emily, was getting up, wiping her eyes frantically and crawling back in through my window. I followed her, beginning to panic; she couldn't be… she wouldn't… not her…

"I have to go," she whispered, hurrying out of my bedroom and towards the fireplace. "I have to go…"

"Emily…" I watched her scrambling to untangle the blanket I'd wrapped around her and throw it on the couch. She looked so… I didn't even know. Determined. She was breathing heavily, panicky, rushing. And the strangest part was that it was all so familiar, because I'd seen this before…

"Emily," I said as she grasped the floo powder. She turned back, tears still streaming down her face. "Please…"

She shook her head. Multiple times. Like she was telling herself. "I need some time. I just need to think."

I stepped forward, my voice weak. "Don't run away."

Everything was blurry again as I watched her throw the floo powder into the fireplace, shout her home's address, a flash of green and then she was gone. But I didn't move. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to blink and pretend it was all a misunderstanding, that she hadn't left… not her…

I waited.

But she didn't come back.

* * *

It wasn't until hours later that I finally understood.

She was scared.

Of me.


	40. Albus: The Captured

**Chapter Forty: Albus: The Captured**

"Al?"

I jerked awake. Adam was standing over me, still in his pyjamas, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. With a groan, I clenched my eyes shut and reached around me to throw my pillow at him.

"Get out of my room," I grumbled.

"Al, you're in the living room." He threw my pillow back at me and it hit my face. "Why are you sleeping on the couch? Did Emily kick you out of your bed or something?"

I rolled my eyes. Like Emily would ever do that.

And then everything from the night/morning before came flooding back… how Dom pushed Emily in the pool… Adam yelling at Dom… sending Dom, the drunken mess home… I told Emily about what I did, and she left…

Huh. Maybe it's not _that_ far off.

"Al." Adam sounded slightly panicked as he sat me up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said unconvincingly, standing gingerly and making my way to the bathroom. Adam followed me and kept watching me as we brushed our teeth. Don't get me wrong – nice that he was _concerned_, and all – but it was slightly creepy.

"I know I'm _pretty_ and all," I said sarcastically, spitting out my toothpaste, "But are you going to stop staring at me?"

"Just trying to figure out what happened," he explained through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Are you sure you're all right? You look really pale and upset. Your eyes are red."

"I _am_ pale."

"But not usually upset." He spit and rinsed out his mouth. "Did something happen last night? I thought you said Emily was staying over."

"She left."

"Why?"

"Long story."

"Al."

"It's none of your business," I snapped, spitting out the rest of my toothpaste and rinsing my mouth. When I looked up, he was still there, arms crossed, waiting. "_What_?"

"I can get your brother, if you want to talk about it."

"I don't talk to my brother about anything."

"Your sister?"

"Leave her alone, she's leaving to Hogwarts tomorrow."

He let his hands swing to his sides, becoming irritated. "Who _do_ you talk to about stuff that bothers you?"

_Emily_.

I shook my head and pushed past him towards the kitchen. I was so determined not to think of it, because for some reason, every time I remembered how one second, she was _there_, and then the next, she was out and flooing home, it made something in my gut clench. Really hard. And it fucking hurt.

"Al, you have to talk about it," Adam said as I took out a carton of eggs and bread. I ignored him. "Come on. You look like you're going to explode."

I broke an egg into a bowl, still not saying a word.

"You seriously have to stop it with this act," he snapped, pulling the bowl away from me. "Okay? Your I-don't-need-anyone act? It's getting old, and if you don't spit out what happened last night, I'm kicking you out. Right now."

I narrowed my eyes. "You can't do that."

"I will."

"I _told_ you," I said through gritted teeth, "it's none of your business."

"I don't want a roommate who looks like he's about the break everything in the flat," he retorted just as determinedly.

I rolled my eyes again. "Well, if that's what you're worried about…"

"Al, just shut up and tell me everything before I crack this egg on your head," he said impatiently, reaching around me and grabbing an egg out of the carton. He held it up threateningly.

"Well, you really want to know, don't you," I said dryly, unimpressed.

"I am an awfully good listener."

"You're also –"

"Shut up." I stepped back as he advanced with the egg. "I mean, if not me, who are you going to talk to? Not Emily, who's you know…" He gestured towards my bedroom. "Not here."

My face fell.

Stupid face. It was too early to control my expressions, apparently.

"Quit messing around, we'd have to clean that," I mumbled, taking the egg from Adam, who'd frozen in surprise from my reaction. I cracked the egg into the bowl and reached for a fork, still not looking at him.

"So… did you guys have a fight?" he asked carefully, opening the cupboard and taking out a pan. "Caused her to leave before you could rip her clothes off?"

"Shut up."

"Okay, okay, touchy." He turned on the stove. I added salt to the bowl. "A fight, then?"

I shrugged. Was it a fight? I wasn't sure. "I guess you could say that."

"About?"

I groaned. "You're such a Puffer, you know that? With all your caring shit."

Adam grinned for the first time and took the bowl from me. "That's just who I am. I am literally offering to listen to your relationship crap."

"It's a lot of crap."

"I've noticed." He put the bowl down and crossed his arms. "Take it or leave it."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure him out. Honestly, I just felt as though there weren't many people who were truly willing to listen to someone else's problems without really wanting anything in return. Maybe it really was just the Hufflepuff in him. Maybe Adam really was just trying to be a good friend, a good flatmate.

And maybe I needed some good friends in my life.

Or to trust someone, for once.

I turned the stove off and turned to the fridge. "I am not nearly drunk enough for this."

"Al," he said, sounding confused, "it's eleven in the morning on a Sunday. You want to get smashed _now_?"

I looked over my shoulder to him and shrugged. "Do you want to know or not?"

* * *

I told him everything.

Now, when I say everything, I mean _everything._ As in, I told him about Holly: _The Long Version_. Every single thing that happened in the relationship that I hadn't thought about in years, or ever talked about. Maybe that's what alcohol does: makes you blabber on like an idiot about everything you holed up in your mind.

Then I launched into a long explanation of what had been going on with Emily. For knowing someone for about two and half months, we had a very long story with lots of stupid little details he probably didn't care about but I told him anyway. I ended up telling him everything about David and her stupid friends. I told him how I asked her to be my girlfriend and why the marriage didn't really count. I even told him about the stupid sex thing she was worried about.

I wasn't quite sure how Adam was still sane after listening to all that.

And he actually _listened_. He wasn't kidding. He listened to everything, nodded and swore at the right parts and didn't make any judgements.

I really underestimated those Hufflepuffs. They were all right, honestly.

"You know what I don't understand?" Adam slurred, poking me with an empty bottle of firewhisky. We'd been sitting in the living room, sprawled out on the couches and talking well into the afternoon.

"What?" I asked.

"Why you blame yourself. If you don't know what you did, then what makes you think you did anything to her?"

I exhaled loudly, swishing the alcohol back and forth in the bottle. "You know, Adam, everything made a lot more sense when Holly screamed it at me in the middle of the corridor. But I don't remember now."

"But you still feel like shit."

"I still feel like shit."

"And you think it's your fault."

"I think it's my fault."

"I don't really understand what you did, Al."

"Me neither." I gripped my bottle tightly. Somehow, even with "liquid courage", it was still difficult to talk about. I still _felt_ the guilt. It stabbed me in the gut. Repeatedly.

Thank Merlin I wasn't crying this time.

"And Emily." My head snapped in his direction. He was tapping his bottle, thinking. "You think she's scared of you?"

"Yeah."

"You think she'll leave because you think you ruined someone's life by accident?"

"She already did, didn't she?" I said bitterly, staring at the fireplace. As though maybe she'd suddenly appear and prove me wrong.

"Al, I'm sure she didn't just break up with you or something," Adam reasoned. "She just left for a little while."

"I guess." I tried to keep my voice from wavering. I wasn't sure it was working. "But she left."

"Just like that? Flooed home?"

"Yeah."

"Temporarily, remember that."

"I don't know."

"I do. She loves you."

Suddenly, my hand jerked of its own accord and my bottle went flying across the room. It shattered when it hit the wall. I took a pillow off the couch and into my arms and gripped it tightly, avoiding Adam's eyes.

"She just left, you know that?" I said loudly, staring at the broken glass. "I don't even know why. I knew she'd freak out, but I didn't think she'd just _leave_, she didn't even give me a chance to explain –"

"You already explained, didn't you?"

"Not _everything_!" I shouted, shaking. "She didn't give me a chance – I don't want to hurt her, and she didn't let me tell her! She didn't let me tell her why I told her all of this in the first place!"

"Al –"

"SHE JUST FUCKING LEFT!" I bellowed, my eyes clenching shut. "SHE LEFT AND SHE'S NOT COMING BACK!"

There was a long silence following my words.

"You love her." It wasn't a question. His voice was calm, collected and contemplative – like he knew everything, but just wanted to make sure. "You love her, that's why you told her and you were going to tell her last night."

I nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

I hated him for knowing everything. For being so perceptive.

"Al, I think you're just drunk and exaggerating," he decided finally. Ironically, his words were slurred, but I didn't care; the room was spinning, and his words were coming out of the haze and punching me in the face.

"I'm not that drunk," I slurred.

"You just told me everything about your love life, I'm pretty sure that's a huge indication." He sighed. "Come on, Al, you're overreacting. Emily loves you just as much as you do, and she'll come back eventually."

"She doesn't love me," I said loudly, shaking my head. "She wouldn't have left!"

"You didn't even consider the fact that she went through all that shit with Dom last night, and you just decided to dump everything on her." I swallowed, looking up at him at last.

He had a point.

"And," he continued, "didn't you do the same thing? You said you kissed her and then told her to get over you. You love her. Didn't you leave, too?"

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Shit.

I was such a hypocrite.

There was a long silence that followed. I kept staring at the pieces of broken glass – a result from my temper, drunken temper, no less. I was relieved Emily hadn't seen that; she'd probably be even more scared of me.

Although I wasn't too happy of Adam seeing me in such a vulnerable state, either.

"What about you?" I blurted out suddenly. He looked up in surprise. "What happened? You've known Dom for two weeks."

He shrugged and began mumbling to himself. "Just didn't think she'd do something like that."

"Well, _yeah_," I said loudly, "but why are you so down about it?"

"Al…" Adam was struggling for words – maybe even _he _didn't know why he was so hurt. He put his face in his hands. "I've spent a lot of time with her in these last two weeks. Maybe that's it. And despite all the crying, I really like her."

"But why?"

"Because underneath all the heartbreak, she's great." I think he was actually smiling at this point – but I couldn't be sure, his hands were still over his face. "She's really pretty. And funny. She doesn't take shit from anyone – except Lysander, I guess. There's something about her that makes me really care about her. I dunno." He sat back and wound his hands together in his lap. "Whatever else I say will make you call me a Puffer."

"Everything you say makes me call you a Puffer."

"I suppose so," he said, grinning for the first time. I tried to smile, but couldn't manage it.

"I've never been too close with Dom," I told him. "She and Rose were always close. They went shopping a lot."

"Did they drag you along?"

"Usually they took mercy on me."

"Lucky you," he chuckled.

"You'd think."

We fell silent again.

I curled up into a ball on the couch. Like how Emily slept. Merlin, everything reminded me of her – the drinking firewhiskey, even though I'd been drinking it long before I'd met her. Cooking, since we'd tried and failed so many times. Being so drunk that I didn't have a filter and was saying everything on my mind. Suddenly, everything felt so overwhelmingly horrible and it felt like fog had invaded my brain.

And the next thing I knew, I had begun drunkenly rambling.

"I miss her. Which doesn't make sense, because she's only been gone for twelve hours. I think. I don't know what time it is. It's hot outside. Emily's really hot. No, she's way more than that. I love her a lot. I don't even know why I was ever scared of love, she doesn't make it scary. I love her, and I'm not scared. And I really miss her, did I tell you that? I really, really, really miss her."

Adam snorted. I ignored him.

"You know who else I miss?" I asked loudly. "My dad. I really, really miss my dad. I've been going to the ministry every day, almost, and nothing. NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME?"

Adam kept silent. I took a deep breath before going on. "He and I were really close when I was little. I told him everything. I told him about being scared about being Sorted into Slytherin – did I ever tell you that?" He shook his head. "Yeah. I told him everything. Sometimes my Mum couldn't even get through to me like my dad did. And the only reason I can still sort of sleep at night is because I know he's strong, and he's still alive. I believe in him. But my family needs him. I need him."

I turned over towards the sofa and clenched my eyes shut. "I need Emily. She makes me forget."

"You know what you need?" Adam said suddenly, standing and stumbling over to me. He grabbed me by the collar of my t-shirt and yanked upwards, dragging me to my room. He pushed me onto my bed. "You need some sleep."

"But I –"

"And some food," he said, checking the clock on the wall. "We haven't eaten in four hours."

The room was still spinning – _where's the kitchen? _Adam left the room and came back with a cinnamon roll and the blanket Emily threw onto the couch last night. Before I could say anything, he stuffed the roll in my mouth.

"How much did you drink?" I mumbled with a full mouth.

"Fair amount." He threw the blanket over my face. "Doesn't compare to how much you drank, but at least I'm not pissed out of my mind."

I swallowed. "I'm not that drunk!" I shouted.

"Sleep." When I pushed the blanket off my face, Adam was gone. Moments later, I heard him open the fridge.

I managed a small smile and turned over in my bed, trying to get comfortable. This was never a problem when Emily was here, and I missed her already.

The last thought I had before I passed out was that the blanket smelled like her.

* * *

If you ever find yourself working for a boss like mine, don't come to work hungover.

My boss wasn't actually so bad. He's the owner of Flourish and Blotts, and he was getting pretty old. As in, _Dumbledore_ old. He wasn't slowing down or anything, but he was slightly stricter than what I was used to. He kept up with rules from his childhood, and he was very professional.

He was all right. Really. But hiding my hangover wasn't fun.

That, or he'd noticed and was punishing me for it.

"Albus," he said brightly from the cash when I entered the shop, "good morning."

"Morning, Mr. Baker," I said, trying to ignore the pounding in my head as I put on the work robes by the door. There weren't too many customers in today, thankfully. Minimal noise.

"Hmmm." I felt nervous as he observed me. He jerked his head towards the back. "We just received new shipments of magazines. Bring the boxes to the front and put them up on display."

I nearly groaned.

Lifting. _Awesome._

I cursed when I brought _The Daily Prophet_ to the front, panting a little as I set it down and opened the box. The headline was something about a temporary ministry set up in an old abandoned building near St. Mungo's while the real ministry was still sealed.

Well, I supposed they had to work _somewhere_.

"The place is rather empty today," Mr. Baker remarked, leaning over the front counter and peering down at where I was stacking the papers. "Then again, September first is always empty."

"I suppose," I grunted, a little out of breath as I tried to straighten the pile in its display basket. "My little sister is starting her last year today."

"Oh, didn't you want to see her off?"

"I did this morning, before I came," I admitted. At around seven, I'd gone to the Burrow and said goodbye to her, promising again to write. Then I decided to wonder London for a bit – auror following closely, of course – and check out the ministry again. Like I'd been doing practically every other day.

Didn't really help the hangover, honestly.

"How's your family handling your father's absence?" Mr. Baker asked, as if he'd read my thoughts.

I shrugged. "We've sort of split up."

"Split up?"

"We're not living together anymore," I explained as I stacked more papers. "My mum moved into my grandparents' home temporarily and my brother moved in with his friends."

He nodded; he already knew I was living in Diagon Alley. He watched as I stood and hobbled off towards the backroom, trying to forget that my head was throbbing as I picked up a box of magazines. I put it down in front of the display case next to the cash and opened it.

It was the latest issue _Witch Weekly_. Let's just say that Emily and I were featured in it again. But unlike the week before, when it was all about how great we were together, it was slightly… different.

My heart dropped as I lifted the magazine. Under the large 'WITCH WEEKLY' script at the top was a picture of Emily – in the pool. I hadn't seen her in there at the party, but now I could see her first reaction. Picture-Emily emerged from the water, slicked her hair back and looked down at herself, her scars. The shock, the humiliation, the anger, the helplessness… all of it made my gut clench painfully.

But the headline was what made the world disappear around me, the slight ringing in my ears, everything becoming fuzzy except for the magazine, that was crystal clear, and so was the headline. That fucking headline.

'_ALBUS POTTER, SON OF SAVIOUR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD, ABUSES HIS WIFE.'_

Holy.

Bloody.

Fucking.

SHIT.

"No," I breathed, staring at the cover, "nononono_no_, this isn't – that wasn't me, I –"

"Albus, are you all right?" Mr. Baker asked, coming around the counter and putting his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. I hadn't noticed I was swaying; I was a little dizzy. I looked up to see concern on his wrinkly face.

"Yeah," I croaked, "I'm fine."

"What's this?" he asked, letting go of me and taking the magazine from my hands. His concern quickly turned to shock. "Albus, is –"

"It's not true," I said immediately, already pleading. My heart was racing; did Emily see this? Did Emily's _parents_ see this? Did _my_ parents see this? Did anyone in my family see this? Fuck fuck _fuck. _I shook my head. "Mr. Baker, I swear, it wasn't me –"

"I believe you," he murmured, flipping through the magazine, looking for the article. "It doesn't sound like you."

I sighed in relief, but I didn't feel it. My stomach was still clenching horribly. "Thank you."

"I think you have somewhere to be," he said firmly, closing and pushing the magazine back into my hands. "You can come back to work whenever you sort out this mess."

I swallowed and nodded, quickly shrugging off my work robes and hung them and babbled out a 'thank you' as I did so. I needed to find someone – Emily. I needed to find her first. Then we needed to go to her parents as soon as possible, because they shouldn't have to find out their daughter was abused from a _magazine._

And that it wasn't me.

I wouldn't hurt someone I loved.

* * *

I ran all the way back to my apartment. The quickest way to get to Emily's school was to apparate, but I didn't trust it; I was shaking too hard and much too dizzy to not splinch myself. I needed to floo.

But to my surprise, there seemed to be a bit of a party going on up there.

"What're you all doing here?" I demanded. Adam, Dom and Emily's _roommate_ were all in my apartment, standing in the middle of the place in the circle, discussing something. They broke apart when they saw I was here. Dom rushed forward and grabbed me around the shoulders.

"Albus, how did you hear?" she asked urgently.

"Hear _what_?" I snapped, shrugging away from her. I was still pissed at her, for obvious reasons.

Mabel came forward. "Emily never came back to her dorm," she told me nervously, fidgeting with her hands. "She left on Saturday night and never came back."

"But…" I shook my still-throbbing head. "She left to her parents' house on Sunday morning…"

"She never came back," Mabel repeated worriedly. "I checked her schedule and she had a class this morning, but she never came back to the room."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said firmly, nodding frantically. "Her wand is still on her desk."

Panic rose in my chest.

"Did you check her house?" I choked out.

"No," Dom said quietly. "I went to her dorm this morning to try and talk to her, but I found Mabel, and… well, we thought she might be here."

"And she's not," Adam said quietly from behind the girls. His arms were crossed and he looked jittery and nervous. "Al, you know where her house is, right?"

I nodded and took a second to close my eyes and breathe. She had to be at her house. That's where she flooed last. Maybe she was sick and stayed home. Maybe she slept in and missed her class.

Oh Merlin, please let it be one of those.

"Come on," I muttered determinedly, opening my eyes. "Let's go."

* * *

"Albus?"

"Hi Mrs. Goyle," I greeted quickly as she glanced at each of us on her front doorstep. She must have been heading to work soon; she was in her St. Mungo's uniform. "We –"

"Come in, come in," she interrupted, stepping back to let us in the house. We clambered inside quickly. "I didn't expect you, Emily hasn't mentioned anything…"

Did that mean she was there? "Sorry to bother you – this is my cousin Dom, my friend Adam and Emily's roommate, Mabel."

"Nice to meet you all," she said politely. "I hate to rush you out, but I have to go to work soon, and Emily's not here –"

"She's not?" I cut in, hoping I didn't just hear that. "She's not here?"

Mrs. Goyle paused, frowning at me. "No, she should be at school…"

The air squeezed out of my lungs, the room. Everything felt too small, and I'd never been claustrophobic, but at that moment, I felt like the walls, everything was closing in on me. Me and that stupid magazine rolled up in my hands and not knowing where Emily was.

"Are you sure?" I said desperately. I felt someone's hand on my arm, but I shook it away. "Are you sure she's not here? She should've been here – she flooed here on Sunday!"

"Al, calm down," Adam whispered.

"No!" I jerked out his reaching grip and tried to breathe as I dodged around a very confused-looking Mrs. Goyle. The living room was sort of a hidden spot, one that could be easily overlooked. I opened the glass doors and zeroed on the fireplace.

The _ruined _fireplace.

There was soot everywhere surrounding the fireplace. The picture frames that had been placed on the ledge above it had fallen. Broken glass covered the ground, as well as blood. A lot of blood. Staining the white carpet.

I couldn't breathe.

Someone had taken Emily.


	41. Albus: The Panic

**Chapter Forty-One: Albus: The Panic**

Everything was spinning out of control.

"What – how did this happen?" Mrs. Goyle spluttered out upon seeing the living room. She looked frantically at us, one by one, finally zeroing in on me. "Albus, what's going on?"

"How did you not notice?" Adam whispered in horror, half to Mrs. Goyle, half to himself. He pointed to the opposite side of the room, towards the window; it was wide open. "You never saw this?"

"We never use this room," Mrs. Goyle answered, just as quietly. She was shaking now, and it reminded me so much of Emily, I had to turn away. "We never come in here, and we have to open the door to see the fireplace…"

I tuned out and slowly stepped towards the fireplace. It seemed as though someone had disabled the security charms, come through the window, probably used a silencing charm so the Goyles wouldn't hear and waited for Emily. It was clear she put up a fight; she'd flooed in, clearly, judging by the soot everywhere, when she was attacked. She may have grabbed the picture frames, perhaps thrown it at the kidnapper… but I had horrible feeling it was her blood.

"Why did they take her?" Adam voiced, sounding as scared as I felt.

"They took Emily?" Mrs. Goyle cried out.

"We have to find her," I said, spinning around to face them. I felt my heart pounding out of chest. It hurt. I swallowed, trying to calm down. "Right now."

"Where is she?" she asked. The others were murmuring worriedly.

"I don't know." I clenched my eyes shut to block out their voices; for some reason, the first place I thought of was the ministry… but why would she be there? Why would they want her there?

But who else would go through all the trouble?

"David," I said suddenly, my eyes snapping open. Mrs. Goyle looked even more confused, but Adam perked up immediately, understanding. "We have to go find David."

"Isn't he in a coma?" Dom asked, also confused.

"He is…" I trailed off, biting the inside of my cheek and trying not to panic. "Dom, can you take Mabel back to school? Then go to the Burrow, find my mum and tell her what happened."

"I'll tell her," said Mrs. Goyle determinedly, but her voice cracked. "I'm going to get my husband and we'll meet you at the Burrow."

I nodded and turned to Adam. "And we need to go check on David."

"David, as in Emily's ex-boyfriend," Mrs. Goyle clarified, still confused.

"No time to explain," I said apologetically, pushing past everyone and running into the kitchen. I took the first scrap of parchment I saw and scribbled out a note.

_James,_

_Meet me at home in the basement, right now._

_Emergency._

_-Al_

The Goyles' tawny owl was perched in their kitchen window, and it took my note in its beak before flying off. I hoped James would get the message and know to come as soon as possible, and not when Quidditch practice ended.

When I turned around, I find four pairs of eyes staring at me.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I demanded frantically. "Let's go!"

* * *

"Are you _sure _he hasn't been up?"

"Mr. Potter, the boy is in a coma!" the Healer snapped, his hands going his hips. "Mr. Nott does not have a wand, the house is guarded by an auror – he's strapped to his bed, for Merlin's sake."

"Yeah, I kind of have to agree with him," Adam muttered from behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off. "Come on, Al, be reasonable."

"Okay," I said, trying to breathe properly. _In, out._ "Okay. So it wasn't David. The fucker is still asleep."

"That seems to be the case…" Adam said, sitting down on the couch. My basement was fully furnished, but it was small. It only had one room with couches everywhere and board games stacked in the corner, and a bathroom in the other corner. My family used to play every Sunday night – Game Night.

Now, in the middle of the room, was David's makeshift hospital bed.

And yes, I made sure he was strapped to it.

"Will he respond to veritaserum?" I asked the Healer. The guy couldn't have been more than ten years older than me, but he seemed pretty confident in himself.

He shook his head. "He shouldn't, no."

"Is it dangerous to try?" Adam asked.

The Healer hesitated. "It shouldn't affect his recovery, but at this rate, it seems as if… well…" He tapped his chin, observing David. "It's not a regular coma."

"In what way?" I asked.

"It seems much more of a very deep sleep," he explained, still looking at David unconscious figure. "He twitches and snores at points, but doesn't respond to anything we've tried to wake him up. Normally, a person in a coma should not be able to move, hear, speak or feel anything."

"So maybe he will respond to veritaserum," Adam confirmed, and the Healer nodded.

"But…" I frowned; my mind was reeling – too fast. I shook my head. "Hang on. David showed up about a week ago – Saturday night before last – and he was injured."

"Correct." The Healer put on his medical gloves to point to David's head, lifting it slightly. "He hit the back of his head very hard, it was bleeding. Then –" He pushed his head over to reveal his neck, and some bruises. "These look like marks from a wand. Perhaps burns. He splinched much of his abdomen." He pointed to David's bandaged chest. "However, we had to use a blood-replenishing spell. I think that there may had been a curse that hit him square in the chest, and it affected his wound when he was splinched. His right leg was broken –" He pointed to the leg in the cast "– and there were scars all down in the inside of his arm." The Healer faced David's palms up. "On the left arm, which is broken, they look like burns, much like the ones on his neck." I stared at them; they seemed to create… a circle? "On the right arm… thin, white scars. "They don't seem as recent as every other injury."

"Meaning?" asked Adam.

"Looks like self-harm," the Healer said quietly.

I shuddered, my eyes moving back to David's cut up face. I found myself wondering what he had done to get in a fight this bad, to be in some kind of unusual coma, to have curses infecting his body, possibly spreading. And wondering why he had resorted to cutting himself.

What was _his_ story?

"Al?"

I jumped at the sound of James' voice. A moment later, he was jumping down the stairs to the basement, nearly tripping as he went. He didn't seem too concerned as he reached me, grabbing me by my shoulders, not caring that he was still holding his broom.

"Al, are you okay?" he demanded, looking around to the Healer, Adam and David. I heard more footsteps, and saw Mum descending down the stars. I had never been more relieved to see her.

"What happened?" she asked, pushing James out of the way and hugging me. "What's the emergency?"

I tried to speak, but the words didn't come. I wrapped my arms around her instead.

"Emily's been kidnapped," Adam explained, and Mum froze. "Al thought that David may have had something to do with this, but he's been here the entire time, asleep."

Mum squeezed me hard before letting go. "Why did you think he had something to do with this?"

I swallowed. "He… umm…" I unrolled the magazine I was still holding all this time and handed it to her. Her hand went to her mouth.

"Albus –"

"It wasn't me," I said loudly. "I swear, Mum. I… I've known about this for a while, and I thought David might have something to do with it, because he was the one who… well…" I gestured to the cover and looked away.

The entire room was silent. David let out a little snore.

"He did that to her?" James whispered, fists clenching around his broom.

"Well, it wasn't Al," Mum muttered, pushing the magazine back into my hands, looking a little pale. "We'll deal with the _Witch Weekly_ later. Right now, we have to get to headquarters."

We followed as she hurried up the stairs. The house was slightly dusty in the week we hadn't been in it, but Mum didn't even seem to notice, for once. She merely dug into her purse and pulled out a piece of parchment and pushed it into my hands.

"Read it, memorize it, pass it on," she said.

_Order of the Phoenix Headquarters_

_Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place_

_London_

I looked up to her worried eyes. "You're letting us into the Order?"

* * *

The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix was held in this Unplottable house, literally within the walls of other houses. Some funky magic, probably. The house was dark and eerie, as though it hadn't been used in years and belonged to some evil family. Later, I found out it had belonged to the Blacks.

Of course.

The house itself was nearly overflowing. People moved in and out of the place regularly, grabbing food and flooing out or only stopping by to deliver news. Others were resting, discussing in harsh whispers, looking frantic and worried. My grandmother and grandfather were the oldest and seemed to be sort of the leaders. Of course, they weren't doing as much as my Mum, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were doing.

And Teddy. He was my god brother, and I think he was probably as close to Harry as James, Lily and I. He was the one I'd been communicating with and depending on. Even though he couldn't tell me anything from the Order, he brainstormed ideas with me - trying to get into the ministry, where my dad was... He was the one who promised to keep me updated - and honestly. No sugar-coating.

So when I told him about Emily, I didn't take the colour draining out of his face to be the best reaction.

Shit.

"You think there's another person trapped in there," he repeated, his voice hollow. He looked from me, to my mum, to James and then a very confused-looking Adam. Then his eyes came back to me. "You're kidding."

"Wish we were," Mum said worriedly, squeezing my arm and turning me towards her.

"What's going on?" I asked. I flinched when Teddy swore loudly and slammed his fist against the wall. Mum grimaced and dragged me out of the hallway, grabbing Teddy by the collar on the way.

"I think we need to talk," she said grimly as we sat at a round table in the corner. "I don't think we've said anything about what we've been doing at the Order."

"No, you haven't," James grumbled.

"We didn't want you to get involved." Mum reached on the other side of her and rubbed Teddy's back; his head was in his hands, as though he was trying very hard to keep from losing control. Mum sighed. "We're not having any luck."

"The most we managed to do is keep the ministry under surveillance," Teddy mumbled from behind his hands. "We've got Order members - pretty much the entire Auror department - surrounding the place. But we can't get in."

"So why hasn't anyone managed to get in?" Adam asked.

"Can't," Teddy replied gloomily. "We're still trying. We can't apparate in or out. For some reason, when you try to floo, nothing happens. Portkeys don't work when we try to connect to someplace inside."

"We even tried blowing up some walls," Mum put in. "The place is indestructible."

I cleared my throat, finding my voice at last. "So what has the Order been doing, exactly?"

"We've been recruiting," Teddy answered, "as well as keeping the protesters at bay. Did you think we were the only ones worried about Harry?"

"It's true," Mum said, sighing. "There are many witches and wizards coming to help, all over the country. What they don't realize is that they're causing more of a disruption, because some of them don't want to work _with_ us. And there are protesters."

"Protesting what?" Adam asked.

"Well first, it was the new laws against the old Death Eaters."

"Pretty sure everyone is against those," I muttered.

"Not exactly," Mum said apologetically. "There were a number of people who actually supported Mr. Birch. Why do you think he got away with it?"

I suddenly felt sick inside.

People _supported_ innocent people being killed?

"But I thought Dad was trying to stop it," James argued, leaning forward. "What did he do? Wasn't he speaking with the minster and putting an end to this?"

"Well, it obviously didn't work," Adam pointed out.

"It's all just a big clusterfuck," Teddy moaned loudly. "A great big mess with a dead end."

"A dead end?" I demanded, panic rising in me again. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he continued, still very loudly, "we have no way of getting her out, no way of getting Harry out. And with people trying to work against us, people shouting in the streets, the ministry workers setting up in the new building and everyone going back to work..."

"People want to forget," Mum said quietly, voice breaking. "Mr. Birch is gone, your dad is locked up in the ministry with the group who froze the Death Eater mess, Azkaban is full of both innocent and dangerous people. They're re-electing a new minister. They want to move past this."

"But they can't just forget!" James protested, panicking. "Dad saved the whole fucking world, and they don't care anymore?"

"Language, James!"

"_The Daily Prophet_ made him seem like a fool, though," said Adam miserably, ignoring my mum. "I read those articles. I can see why there are still protesters around."

"But Dad's on the good side!" James argued, rounding on Adam. "He didn't kill people just for being related to or connected to Death Eaters!"

"But who're the bad guys, James?" I retorted, cutting in. My mind was reeling. "Who are the bad guys? That group killed the minister, so they're definitely not on Mr. Birch's side. But Dad was trying to stop the minister, but the group still captured him - so they're not on Dad's side."

"Mr. Birch was..." James trailed off, thinking. "Wait."

"Exactly!" I said, feeling jittery. Things were sort of making sense. And not at all at the same time. "Listen. The group aren't the good guys, because they killed Mr. Birch and captured Dad, and who _knows_ what they're doing to him. But Mr. Birch wasn't on the good side either, because he was arresting and killing innocent people. But old Death Eaters aren't the good guys either - at least, they didn't use to be - and they served their time in Azkaban. Then they got thrown in there again. Some didn't get out."

"When you think about it," said Adam slowly, understanding what I meant, "no one's truly a good guy. Maybe your Dad, is, though, because he was fighting against the act of killing and imprisonment itself - not the people."

"That's what I'm trying to say," I said, still speaking to James. "Mr. Birch was against the old Death Eaters, so they - and the protesters - were against him. Dad was against hurting innocent people, so he was against Mr. Birch, and therefore, Mr. Birch wad against Dad. Old Death Eaters couldn't have been against Dad, they made peace with him ages ago and the ones that didn't are locked up in Azkaban. Plus, Dad was fighting for _their _rights. So..."

I trailed off. There was something missing in this puzzle.

Who was against both Mr. Birch _and_ my dad?

"I think you're trying to figure out is who's in that group," Teddy suggested, nodding to me. "That's what we've been trying to figure out, too."

"And?"

"No luck," he admitted.

"But what you said doesn't make sense," James said, shaking his head. "Mr. Birch was against the Death Eaters, so doesn't that make him on the good side as well? Aren't the Death Eaters always bad?"

"I think what the biggest thing Al's trying to say is that there _aren't_ any clear sides," Adam told him, glancing over to me.

I nodded. "In any war, or mess like this... I'm thinking everyone has their own reasons for things, for doing what they do. It's not black and white. You have to look at everyone's point of view."

"If you look at Mr. Birch, who lived through the last war and suffered loss from it, you would understand why he hated the Death Eaters," Mum said quietly. She hadn't spoken in a while. "Death Eaters weren't as bad as Voldemort, but some of them... you can't imagine. They could be brutal, ruthless. Some feared them more than Voldemort. I could understand why Mr. Birch kept a heavy grudge over them, then waited to be in a position of power before doing anything about it. There is power in numbers."

"But that's an abuse of authority," James argued. "Dad didn't keep that grudge."

Mum smiled sadly. "Well, maybe your dad is a much better person than Mr. Birch was."

I felt a surge of pride for my dad.

"But then there's the Death Eater's side," Mum continued. "Many of them have retired, in a sense. They've given up on those ways. They've done their time in Azkaban. It is ridiculous how Mr. Birch punished those people who have been punished already - and their children, who haven't done anything." Mum squeezed my shoulder at this, and I dropped my eyes down to my lap.

"I get it," James said. I saw him nod from the corner of my eye. "I understand."

But there was still one remaining question: What was that _group's_ point of view?

"If they were the ones who took Emily, they couldn't have been Death Eaters," I said quietly. "She's one of them - related to one, I mean."

"We need to know the group's motive," James said.

"But what if they're _not_ the ones who took her?" I asked.

Nobody had an answer to this one.

I barely had a moment's notice of Mum's eyes flickering behind me before I felt hands grasping at my shoulders. I spun around in my seat and found Malfoy, pale and shaking and looking as though he was about to have a panic attack.

Right, he was Emily's _childhood_ friend. I probably should've told him.

Oops.

"Do you know where she is?" he demanded, shaking me. I shook my head and stood; Emily's parents and Rose were standing behind him, looking equally worried. Mum and Teddy gestured Mr. and Mrs. Goyle away to speak to them.

"Al," Rose said, voice trembling as she stepped towards me. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," I said helplessly. I turned around. "Teddy, we have to find a way in there, and now_._"

"We don't know a way in there," he admitted painfully.

"Well, what _do_ you know?" I demanded. "My dad's been in there for two weeks and you've hit a fucking dead end and managed to round up a huge group of useless people!"

"Albus -"

"WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING FOR THE LAST TWO WEEKS?" I shouted angrily, my words casting a silence over our corner. No one dared to move as I backed up, trying to breathe properly.

I was realizing the impact of what was going on here, where the Order was, the progress they'd made in terms of helping my dad... but this was different than Dad. This was _Emily_, and unlike him, she was only eighteen, just out of Hogwarts and powerless without her wand. She was strong, but not that strong.

I didn't know how long she could last in there.

And the thing was that the Order wasn't any help. These past two weeks of trying to distract myself, relying on my Mum to know what was best, depending on the Order to know what they were doing, trying to just _wait_ like Mum told me to and leave everything up to the authorities... it was pointless. I wasted two weeks in waiting, and now Emily was out there and I just _knew_ the group in the ministry had something to do with this.

I had to do _something. _I just needed proof... and a way into the ministry.

But there was no way I was relying on the Order anymore.

"Al," Teddy said after few moments, "I know this is scary, and I know you're in shock right now. But we're not going to just do _nothing_. You know that, right?"

I glared at him. I couldn't find a single reason to believe his words. Doing _nothing_ was all the Order seemed to be doing - and coming up with excuses. Protesters. Other people. They were all just fucking excuses to why they hadn't found a way in.

I needed a new strategy.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. Relief seemed to spread around everyone in the corner. "Okay. I need to know the plan."

Teddy seemed most relieved of all. "Okay. We're still trying to get into the ministry - we think we've found a weak spot, but we're not so sure. You can come and help. We'll also check all over, see if that group isn't actually Emily's captors after all."

"But what if we can't get in?" I asked, trying to keep calm. More _waiting_. I didn't want to wait anymore. "Emily's not my dad - she can't survive in there, okay? There's no way we can keep doing the same thing for two weeks."

Teddy looked at me sadly. "I don't know what we'll do, Al. I'm sorry."

And I truly believed he was.

I couldn't blame him for not having all the answers.

"Come on, Al," Adam said suddenly, giving me a peculiar look. "Let's go sit for a second. Calm down, and we'll think about this." I raised an eyebrow at him, and he glared at me, motioning with his eyes.

"What the -" Then my eyes widened, and I understood.

Bloody hell, the boy's a genius.

"Right," I agreed, grabbing James and Malfoy. "Come on. We'll just... sit down and think about this shit." Before anyone could say a word, I dragged them out of the room, Adam and Rose following.

"What're we doing?" James muttered once we were in the hall and out of range.

"In here," said Adam, wrenching a door open. It was an empty room with drawings all over the walls - but empty. We scrambled inside and shut the door.

"What're we doing?" James repeated as I let go of him and Malfoy.

"I don't know," I said, exchanging glances with Adam. "You have a plan, Puffer?"

"No," he admitted. "But we can't follow Teddy's."

"Agreed," said Malfoy, crossing his arms against his chest. "But we don't have anymore of a lead then they do."

"We've got David, though."

Everyone stared at Adam.

He held up his hands. "What? It's true! He was the one who came to Al's house, begging everyone to forgive him. Which doesn't really make sense, but..."

"No, it doesn't," I agreed. "But he's also the person I can see who would put an effort into kidnapping Emily. I mean, he was the one who..."

"Yeah, he really did seem to hurt her a lot," Scorpius agreed quietly. "I knew him. I could see David behind something like this."

"But he's in a coma," Rose piped up.

"Veritaserum," I said, turning to James. He pressed his mouth in a thin line. "Come on, James, this is important."

"It's illegal," he muttered.

"Which is why you'd know the guy." James didn't budge. "James, please. We need to find out if David knows where she is. A guy doesn't just show up at your house with no explanation and fall into a coma."

"He claimed to know a way into the ministry," Adam said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "We need to find out if he was telling the truth."

James looked away. "I promised Dad that I'd never go back there."

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.

"Tell us," Adam said firmly. "Tell us and we'll go."

James shook his head. "You don't know the guy."

"We'll do anything," I said quietly, pleading with my eyes. "Anything, James."

"For Emily," Scorpius added, voice breaking.

There was a long silence as James stared at me, then Scorpius, then Rose, then Adam, then back to me. He closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around himself, breathing in and out through his nose, keeping his jaw clenched shut.

At last, he spoke.

"Okay," he said. I breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll do it."

"I'm coming," Scorpius said to me, and I nodded.

"So am I," said Rose.

"You are _not_," Scorpius snapped, turning to her. "You're pregnant. What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing will happen to me!"

"Bullshit!"

I shook my head as they continued to argue and shifted my attention to James, who still seemed incredibly conflicted. I could tell he didn't want to do this, to break his promise... but this was for a good cause. This wasn't dealing. Not really.

"Thanks, James," I said in a low voice. "I... I really owe you."

He shrugged and slapped my back. "What're brothers for, Al? And maybe you're forgetting, but..." He cut off, watching Scorpius and Rose argue as Adam sniggered at them. "Dad's there, too."

"I didn't forget."

"Could've fooled me."

"I just thought the Order could do this," I admitted, looking down to my shoes. "I thought they were stronger than me - that they had more... I dunno."

"I know what you mean," he said. "And to be honest, I wasn't sure we belonged. We're young, and... well. What can a Quidditch player and journalist do in a situation like this?"

"But we're going to try," I said. "To get Dad back. We're getting him back."

"Emily, too." I nodded, and he gave a me a weak smile. "She'll be fine, Al. She'll be back and you can tell her you love her and make pretty little babies. Don't worry."

I wrinkled my nose. "I hate kids."

James laughed for the first time that day and swung an arm over my shoulder. "Let's go wander in some dark alleys and get some truth potion."

"But how're we going get out of here?" I asked. "Mum's not going to let us out of her sight, and I doubt Teddy will help us. I think we need a distraction..." I trailed off, zeroing in on Rose as she stomped her foot.

Hmm.

That could work.

* * *

Ten minutes later, our rucksacks were packed with various vials of healing potions, a bit of food and my dad's old invisibility cloak. We weren't sure if it was going to help - we barely fit under in anymore - but it could come to use somehow.

"Okay, all you have to do is pretend your water broke."

"No one's going to believe that!" Rose protested for about the millionth time. "I'm only five months along, it's not even possible!"

"Yeah, but pregnant women are crazy," I told her, and she scowled.

James, Adam, Malfoy and I sat at our table in corner, waiting. Rose deliberately chose to sit with her mum at a different table, helping them make dinner. Just as my grandmother brought out dessert, I caught James writing something.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the piece of parchment. I slid my hand across the table, but he snatched it back.

"Nothing," he said quickly. If I wasn't suspicious before, I certainly was now.

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing!"

"Doesn't _look_ like nothing."

"It is," James assured. Adam and Malfoy were staring, now. "Don't worry about it."

I kicked Adam lightly underneath the table before giving a huge sigh. "Fine, if you won't tell your brother..." As soon as James set down the parchment again, Adam sneakily grabbed it.

"Hey!" he snapped, lunging at Adam, but it was too late; I took the letter and jumped up from my seat and out of reach.

"What is this?" I asked teasingly as he tried to scramble towards me. Adam was doing a pretty good job at holding him back; he'd grabbed James from behind by his torso. I grinned. "A love letter?"

"Al, give it back!"

I began to read it out loud, just to bother him. "_Dear Holly, I'm sorry I can't..._"

I stopped.

No way.

James shoved Adam off of him before stepping towards me. "It's not what you think."

I scanned the letter quickly; none of this was making sense. It _did _seem like a love letter - he'd signed it '_Love, James'_ at the bottom (what a sap) - but was this the same Holly? The one I'd dated two years ago? The one who was certifiably insane, a stalker and loved _me?_

I looked up. "I thought Holly was missing."

Adam froze. Malfoy looked confused.

"She's..." James ran a hand through his hair. "Out of the public eye."

I couldn't believe my ears. "So this is the _same_ Holly? Holly _Birch_?"

James dropped his hand. "Yes. But Al -"

"You're dating my ex?" I demanded. I didn't even like her anymore, in all honesty. I was more concerned that he was betraying me in some way and lying by omission.

Also, wasn't she _insane_?

"She's not crazy anymore!" James protested, as if he'd read my mind. I rolled my eyes. "No, Al, I'm serious, she was never crazy - okay, she sort of was, but -"

"What did you do, nurse her back to health?" I retorted. When James shifted guiltily, I threw his letter back at him. "Oh, great. You're dating your patient."

He stepped forward, pleading. "Al, please just let me explain -"

"OH MY MERLIN I THINK MY WATER JUST BROKE!"

We froze.

"We have to move," Malfoy murmured as everyone began swarming around Rose. "Now, before it's too late!"

I nodded and the four of us ducked out of the house, making sure our mothers weren't watching before we ran out the front door. As planned, we grabbed onto James as soon as we were out and we apparated away.

A few moments later, we arrived in the heart of Knockturn Alley.


	42. Albus: The Eavesdropping

**Chapter Forty-Two: Albus: The Eavesdropping**

Knockturn Alley is one of those places your parents point out to you and warn you to never go. Obviously, that means you sneak away from them at some point, run your tiny feet into the alley leading towards the place and then realize... the place is freaky. Dark and cold and empty, but at the same time, eyes emerging from every shadow.

Really. Fucking. Creepy.

And then you run back to mummy.

"Well," I said, observing my surroundings, trying not to shiver. My voice seemed to echo, stretching across the foggy alley. "Seems like a perfectly stereotypical place for a dealer."

"I can see why, it's creepy as hell," said Adam, shuddering.

"Shut up, you two," Scorpius snapped. He wasn't looking at us, but James, who seemed... a little pale. "Are you all right, Potter?"

"Fine." James took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah." He exhaled and started walking, and we scrambled after him. James lead us past the shops and bars, past the closed down lots and to the part of town that even the creepy people around town didn't lurk - towards the dead part of Knockturn Alley. If it wasn't already dead, anyway.

"Okay." James stopped just before a corner of a brick building and turned around. Behind him, I could see a darker (if possible), narrow alley. "You guys have to stay here."

"Why?" I demanded.

"Do you really think he'll sell us anything if he thinks he's being cornered?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, he knows me. Keep watch, okay?" He shot me a look, and I understood: we had to watch _his_ back, not ours.

I didn't blame him. He looked like he was going to shit himself.

"What'll he want?" Scorpius asked.

"Gold." James paused, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Usually." I couldn't help wondering how desperate the drug addiction had made him; he seemed so genuinely frightened of this place. He was shaking so badly, I was surprised he would go through all the trouble.

"I'll come with you," I offered.

"No," he said immediately. "Just me." Before I could protest, he turned the corner and disappeared.

I crept forward and peeked around. James walked quickly into the shadows, far into the alley - until I could barely see his silhouette. He stopped. He seemed to be shaking hands with someone I couldn't see. Then speaking. I could see him running his hand through his hair - a nervous habit of his. Then, without hesitation, he took his money pouch out of his pocket and gave the entire bag to the hidden man.

As James walked back towards us, I could see the small vial in his hands. The moment he approached us, he pushed it into my pocket.

"How much did he ask for?" I asked.

"Everything I had."

My eyes went wide. That had to be at least fifty galleons - of money that he earned himself. "James -"

"Just forgive me, Al?" he cut across, pleading with his eyes. "Forgive me and we'll call it even."

I didn't know what to say. I wasn't even that angry.

"You guys can talk later," Scorpius interrupted. He looked anxious, like he really wanted to get out of there. Or like he really needed to pee. "We really have to get the truth out of Nott, before... I dunno..."

_Before it's too late._

"Yeah," I found myself saying. I nodded to James. "We'll talk later."

"Good," Adam said, holding out his arm so we could side-apparate. "One more minute in this place and I might sprout horns and call myself the incarnate of Voldemort."

"He didn't have horns, Adam."

"Come on!" he said urgently. "I'm getting more evil by the second.

Said the Hufflepuff.

* * *

We apparated directly into my house and leapt downstairs. The Healer jumped in surprise upon hearing all the noise.

"What're you lot doing here?" he demanded, gripping tightly to his scrubs.

"Getting some answers," I said absent-mindedly, uncorking the vial. I moved closer to David (rather reluctantly, might I add); conveniently, his mouth was wide open, and he was snoring. I felt a surge of rage. "Can I kick him, just once?"

"Hurry up," Scorpius said, ignoring me. I poured the clear potion into David's open mouth, mid-snore.

The effect was instantaneous. He eyes stayed shut, but his head rolled back and forth on the table. He began to cough violently, then - somehow - he sat up. Eyes still closed. I stepped back.

"Is this supposed to happen?" James whispered from behind me. The Healer was at a loss for words. David has become still, head hanging forwards like a rag doll. I cleared my throat.

"What's your name?" I asked.

He twitched once. When he spoke, his voice was flat. "David Nott."

"Why did you come here?"

Again he answered in the same, monotone voice. "To serve."

"Serve who?"

"Them."

"Who?"

"The Death Eaters."

My jaw dropped as I exchanged glances with Adam - _what Death Eaters?_ - and turned to the Healer. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

He started, trying to shake off his shock. "It seems so..."

I turned back to David. "There are Death Eaters?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Old ones. The ones who survived." To my horror, his head lolled to the side, towards me, a horribly impish grin stretching across his face. He took his right finger, and almost robotically, pointed to the circle of burn-like marks on his left forearm. "And new ones. Like me."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"_New_ Death Eaters?" I repeated, my voice hollow. I tore my eyes and away and looked to Scorpius, but he seemed as shocked and confused as I did. "Wait, do you mean Voldemort is back from the dead?"

David laughed an empty laugh. His eyes were still shut. "No."

"Then who is leading you?"

"My master is the oldest Death Eater still alive." I waited, racking my brains, but he didn't elaborate.

"Did you take Emily?" Scorpius asked.

David's head dropped back onto his chest. "No."

"Who did?"

"The Death Eaters."

"Did they take my dad?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Where are they keeping him?"

"I don't know."

"Where are they keeping Emily?" Scorpius demanded.

"If they take Emily, they will keep her in the darkest corridor of the department of mysteries."

"If?" Adam cut in, voice cracking.

David nodded. "They will only take Emily if Harry Potter's family doesn't find a way into the ministry."

"But..." None of this way making sense. "_Why_?" I asked.

"We need something from Harry Potter," he answered. I assumed by "we", he was referring to the Death Eaters. Whoever they were. "If he does not grant it to us, we will keep him in the ministry until he does. His family must come. If they do not come, we will take Emily to bring Albus Potter into the ministry."

All eyes were suddenly zeroing in my direction.

"Me?" I choked out.

"How did you expect my family to get in?" James demanded. "It's impossible. You can't apparate, use a portkey... and the entire building is sealed and indestructible. How were we supposed to get in?"

David's head came up again, the awful grin widening. "Me."

There was a moment of silence.

"You know the way in," James said shakily.

"Yes."

"What is it?" I demanded. My heart was racing at this point, and I don't think I was breathing properly. "How? How do you get in there?"

"The only way in is through a portrait," he said. "It is located in the _Daily Prophet_ building." I suddenly understood how the Death Eaters were able to influence the newspapers. "Find this portrait and ask to find a way into the ministry."

I couldn't believe it.

"Why do you need me there?" I asked, shaking. "Why did you take my dad and Emily? What do you want from -" I stopped.

David's eyes had opened. He was awake.

Then, a moment later, he shot me that same, insane smile, and disappeared.

* * *

It was as though he'd dissolved into thin air. He didn't apparate - he didn't have a wand. There was no _crack._ David had simply disappeared, leaving an empty table, straps still bound.

What the fuck.

We jumped as a loud _crack_ sounded above us, and for a split second, I was convinced that the ceiling was caving in, that my house had somehow been attacked and were doomed.

Even though that didn't turn out to be the case, we were still doomed.

My mum had apparated in.

The look on her face as she rushed down the stairs was a combination of relief and pure fury. I was pretty sure I'd seen the fury, and I'd like to add that now would've been a good time to hide.

"_There_ you are!" she exclaimed, rushing over and squeezing James in a hug. I backed up as she approached me, engulfing me despite my reluctance. I could see Adam sniggering from the corner of my eye.

"What are you doing here? Do you have any idea how worried we've been?"

"We've been - OW! BLOODY HELL, WOMAN -"

Mum let go of my ear and put her hands on her hips. "No need to ask who was the mastermind behind your escape, do I, loverboy?"

I winced, messaging my earlobe. "Could you not hear us out before attacking me?"

She ignored me; she seemed to just notice there was someone missing. She frowned at the bed and the untouched straps. "Where's David?"

"He disappeared," Scorpius said numbly, still staring in shock. "He's gone."

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" she asked sharply. "Gone where?"

"Back to the ministry?" I suggested. It was starting to sink in; the only source we had - the only _real_ lead - was gone. And the worst part was that he'd been there for weeks, and I'd been too proud and stubborn to accept any possibility that David was telling the truth.

Until Emily was gone.

And now David was gone, too.

"We have to find that way in," I said loudly, breaking the shocked silence. I didn't want to think of David and Emily being together in the ministry, or what he could do to her. I looked to James determinedly. "Let's go."

"Wait," Mum said firmly, grabbing my wrist. "Explain."

* * *

Mum made us come back to Headquarters before we could tell our story. Safety precautions and whatnot. Once we were all inside the living room - me, James, Malfoy, my mum and everyone else in the Order - I told them everything I could remember about David's confessions (which, with my memory, was pretty much everything).

Many faces in the Order looked as though they'd been smacked in the face. They should have. Honestly, I felt almost betrayed by the fact that we'd gotten a better lead in four hours than they'd gotten in three weeks.

And yet, they had plenty to criticize.

"Something's fishy here," said an old auror whose name I didn't know. I glanced to him at the corner of the room, where he was stroking his beard skeptically. "Why did Nott resist the veritaserum?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"If he was truly under the influence, he would have given straightforward answers," said another wizard. He had a giant belly - I think his name was Slughorn or something. My dad had him as a potions professor. "Didn't you say he didn't speak of the Death Eaters straight away?"

I racked my brains, experiencing a sinking feeling in my gut. "Yeah."

"He also wouldn't tell us who these Death Eaters were," said Malfoy. He was gripping Rose's hand tightly; I wondered why he looked so nervous, and if it only had to do with Emily.

"Either way, we've got to somehow get into the ministry," I said firmly. "I say we go now."

To my surprise, no one moved.

"Al," Mum said hesitantly, standing beside me and putting a hand to my shoulder. "I know you're upset, but you know we can't just accept David's lead yet."

I shrugged off her hand. "Why not?"

"Al, it's late," she said firmly, still trying to reason with me. "We don't know if this lead is valid. You've been alert all day, you must be exhausted."

"I'm _fine._"

"You need your rest," she insisted, pushing me into an empty spot on the couch. "We'll figure this out in the morning. I promise."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"So you're just going to wait some more?" I shouted, standing up again. I was so so sick of waiting. I needed to feel like I was giving it my all, even if my efforts were pointless. I needed to _do _something.

"Albus, this is for your own safety," she said in a low voice, her eyes blazing - a warning. I was close to crossing the line.

I backtracked. "But Mum... this isn't just anyone, it's _Dad_. Emily."

She shook her head. It was too final for my liking. "No, Al. In the morning." I looked helplessly to James; he was standing in the entrance of the living room, arms crossed. His expression softened when I caught his eye, and he shook his head.

I exhaled in defeat.

The Order members began to speak and move about again, sensing the meeting was over. Mum quickly hurried into the kitchen to help make tea, many following her. Rose and Scorpius left. Adam hastily struck up conversation with an auror who hadn't left; he was clearly avoiding Dom's eye.

I sank into the old couch and put my head in my hands, absent-mindedly listening to the idle chatter in the room. I felt the seat indent as someone sat beside me. I opened my eyes and immediately straightened up.

It was Mr. Goyle.

"Hi, Albus," he said kindly - which didn't calm my nerves, to be honest. I wasn't even in the sleeping bag with Emily this time. "Are you doing all right?"

I shrugged and swallowed the lump in my throat. "I've been better."

"I'm guessing you know why I'm..." He trailed off and unrolled the magazine in his hands - the same one I'd given Mrs. Goyle earlier. He seemed to cringe at the cover. "What is this?"

"The headline's not true," I blurted out quickly. I didn't exactly want to sound so miserably desperate, but I had a feeling that's how it came out. I forced myself to look into Mr. Goyle's eyes. "I swear."

"But this is true," he said, gesturing towards Emily's picture."

I nodded. "Yeah, it is."

"What happened?"

"I don't know if it's my place to say," I mumbled truthfully, looking down to my shaking hands. "I would. But I think Emily should tell you."

He sighed and rolled up the magazine again. "She hasn't been cringing or limping... these bruises don't hurt, I'm guessing." I nodded. "But then why are they there?"

I kept my mouth shut - even though I really _did_ want to tell him.

He sighed again and clapped a hand to my back. "Loyal Gryffindor, aren't you? Look, I'll let this slide if you do something for me."

"Yeah?" I said, glancing up to him. He looked almost... afraid.

"Bring my daughter home, okay?" he said gently.

I looked down to my hands again. "I'll do my best."

* * *

"Al, wake up."

I jerked awake. I was still on the couch, and it had seemed I'd fallen asleep after Mr. Goyle left. For about ten minutes, according to my watch. I rubbed my eyes as James sat down beside me.

"Mum says there's no room for us to stay here, so we'll have to go home," he told me.

I yawned. "Okay."

"Can we talk first?"

"About what?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, running a hand through his hair. "I'm really sorry, Al. I guess I broke the Bro Code. I'm a shitty brother."

I snorted. Did James even realize what he did for by getting that veritaserum?

"No, Al," he insisted upon seeing the look on my face. "I haven't been a good brother for years. I've been caught up in my own life, and I've barely spoken to either you or Lily all summer because of it."

No wonder she'd been so lonely.

"It's all right, James," I assured him.

"No, it's not." His hands were fidgeting in his lap. "I just... the whole thing started with comparing myself to you. You're just really gifted, Al, and I can't match that."

I groaned. "But -"

"I know you don't care," he said quickly," but it was fifth year, I was doing that therapy stuff on top of OWL's, and I was Quidditch captain." He exhaled loudly, determinedly not looking at me. "There was this girl who noticed and told me there was a way out."

"Who?" I asked carefully. James had never talked about this before, and I really didn't want to mess it up. "Holly?"

"Nah, someone in my year. Gryffindor." James shrugged. "She lead me through a lot of shitty stuff - smoking, drugs, a lot of drinking... I don't think I was sober writing my exams. It turned out that she needed the money to keep her addiction going." My jaw dropped, and he chuckled darkly. "And there I was, thinking I'd found the love of my life and was going to marry her."

I could only stare at him.

"I figured it out after she dumped me," he continued. "Halfway through sixth year. Dad cut me off, remember? I had no money, my girlfriend dumped me. That was the time I started to steal from Dad."

I shook my head. "James..."

"I know, I know," he said dejectedly. "I was an idiot."

"But you managed to turn your life around," I added, nudging him. "I mean, look at you now. Clean, sober, reserve on a great Quidditch team, part-time therapist and with a new girlfriend."

He laughed. "So you're not mad?"

"James, she's a psycho bitch. It's your choice."

"She _used_ to be," he corrected. "Way back in June, her dad came to the facility I work in and demanded the best therapist for his daughter. I was surprised they chose me, but he was the minister of magic. I wasn't going to say no."

"So she's better now?"

He nodded. He smiled a little - he was proud of himself. And he should've been. "She's been through a lot. I don't think she was ever _actually_ crazy, she was just... bottling up a lot of pain. It's probably not easy being the minister's daughter, and her mum passed away... she just happened to blame you."

I snorted. Even though I deserved that blame. "You can say that again."

"You still feel guilty, don't you?"

"No." James-the-therapist gave me a look. "Yes."

"Don't," he advised. "I've heard it all, and it's not your fault."

"I don't believe you," I muttered.

"Holly will explain one day."

"She was the client who took up all your time?" I asked, suddenly remembering back three weeks ago, when we were making plans to get shitfaced. "You didn't love her then."

"I was in denial then," he clarified, laughing. "I still needed to be professional, but it wasn't working. Once I... well, let's just say I had to let her go, in terms of therapy. She was a lot better."

I cringed. I didn't need the mental image. "So she's not missing, then? She's staying with you?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah."

I stayed quiet; in all honesty, I didn't care about the fact that James was dating Holly, because I'd moved on. I just wanted to know that he was, because... he was my brother. Simple as that.

Dear Merlin, love makes you sappy.

"Okay," James said, standing. "I'm going home. Find Mum when you leave so she can get an auror to escort you, okay?"

"Okay," I repeated, still lost in my brother's story. He gave me a quick pat on the back before wandering off.

* * *

I'd only sat for a few minutes before heaving my aching limbs off the couch. If I couldn't go to the _Daily Prophet_ offices now, I'd go in the morning. When I could think properly. I searched for Adam. I'd seen him go off with Dom earlier, so I was sure they were either arguing or snogging. I peeked inside one of the deserted rooms, bracing myself.

Instead, I found Rose and Malfoy.

They were standing by the window - not staring out, but at each other. Rose looked very upset; he was holding her, one hand around her, and one on her belly. I could tell he was already very protective.

He'd better be.

"I know it's scary," I heard him whisper, "but I'll be back. I promise."

"But what about..." She looked down. "I know this is important to you, but I want our baby to have a father, okay? I'm sorry, it's selfish, but -"

"It's not," he said, kissing her forehead. "Rose, I don't want to worry you. But this is my best friend since before I could speak, and not only Emily, but this is about... proving something. It's just that the Death Eaters are claiming a lot of our generation as _new_ Death Eaters, and I'm not. People aren't just evil because their family has been branded."

Rose sniffed, and he wiped a tear from her cheek. "Scorpius, please come home."

"I will." He pulled her close and kissed her, and I had to look away. "I promise, Rose."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I ducked away from the slightly open door as I heard footsteps. Just when I thought the coast was clear, Malfoy opened it fully, catching me eavesdropping.

Oops.

"Err..." I tried not to look too guilty. "Hi."

"Hey, Potter." He tried and failed to smile. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure," I said skeptically. What did he want to talk to _me_ for? I followed him back into the room, and he shut the door behind him.

"How much did you hear?" he asked.

I gave a resigned sigh. "Malfoy, you don't have to go. Rose is right."

"No, I do," he said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I really care about Emily... and it's a question of morals, really." I raised an eyebrow, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, don't act like you don't think I'm evil."

"I wouldn't let my cousin marry someone evil," I retorted, honestly offended. I hated when people assumed things, when I never actually thought Malfoy was all that bad. "I wouldn't have lived in your house."

He looked down to the ground in embarrassment. "Right."

"Malfoy, what do you want?"

"To apologize," he said bluntly, eyes flickering back to mine. "I realize I've done things that you didn't really deserve, and..." He was beginning to look more and more guilty as he spoke. I'm sorry for punching you when I thought Emily was pregnant."

I smirked. "That _was_ rather hypocritical."

He gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah. And I'm sorry for the house situation - we _were_ going to tell you, but we just wanted to make sure you and Emily had a place to go."

"Oh..." It was my turn to look guilty. "Sorry for overreacting before you could tell me."

He held out his hand. "We should work together," he said nervously. "I think we're on the same side this time."

Weird. We were.

I grasped his hand and shook it.

"You're going to come home, Malfoy," I said firmly, meaning it. "I'm not letting Rose down, and neither are you.

He glanced over his shoulder to where Rose had left through the other door before smiling at me. A real, genuine smile.

* * *

After all the sentiments, I'd given up my search for Adam and just went home, thinking he'd probably just headed there without me. My suspicions were correct - and he wasn't alone.

The aurors stayed outside the door, giving me an odd look as I quietly shut the door and crept inside. Neither Adam or Dom seemed to notice; they were both standing the kitchen, arms rossed, red-faced and arguing.

This oughta be good.

"Adam, I don't understand what you want," Dom said forcefully, looking frustrated. "I thought we were friends. Then you wanted more than that. Now you _don't_?"

"Dom, I don't want to be a rebound -"

"Then I don't know what to tell you!" she shouted, throwing her hands up. "I just came out of a fucked up relationship, one that lasted for nearly four years, and you just expect me to forget all that?"

"No, I -"

"You don't get it, Adam - there's no way for you to _not_ be a rebound right now -"

"But I -"

"I'm confused!" she cried out miserably, clutching at her messy blonde hair. "I really don't know what I'm doing, okay? I don't know what I'm doing with my career - or what it is, for that matter. I don't know what _love_ is anymore, if it wasn't what I had with Lysander..."

She shook her head and pushed her hair off her face. "I just pushed one of my good friends in a fucking pool. When she was trying to help me. I feel so awful, Adam, okay? And now she's missing, maybe dead, and I'm just... I'm not -"

"Dom, you're -"

"I'm screwed up," she said quietly, shrinking to the floor. She leaned her back against the cabinets, looking as though she was trying very hard not to cry. "I don't even know who I am anymore. I can't love you, Adam."

He kneeled in front of her. I'd never seen him so upset. "Dom, I'm not asking for that."

She sniffed. "I'm sorry I kissed you back."

"I'm not."

"But it's not honest," she whispered, her voice breaking as she began to cry. "Because even if I like you, right now, you're a rebound. And I don't want to lose you. You're the only one who seems to be able to stand me right now. Even _I _can't stand myself."

"Dom, you're -"

"I don't need to someone to tell me I'm fine the way I am," she whispered, beginning to cry. "I want to change."

He pulled her tightly against him, right there on the tiled floor. She held his shirt in fists as he stroked her hair. Adam looked so conflicted, but almost... assured. Like he knew what he was going to do.

"Dom," he said gently, "you can't change who you are. You have to grow. That's the way it works. You have to work hard to be someone who doesn't let their emotions control them." He pulled her back and kissed her wet cheeks. "I'll help you."

She closed her eyes. "I don't need a boyfriend right now. I need a friend."

"Someday, Dom," he insisted, smiling. "I fancy the hell out of you."

I rolled my eyes, sniggering. What a Hufflepuff. Without waiting to see what happened next, I quickly strode off to my room.

That was enough eavesdropping for one day.

* * *

I'm not trying to be a girl. I swear.

But I really needed Emily at that point.

And maybe it was because she was missing, and maybe it had to do with my accidental eavesdropping on couples. But then again, it might've had something to do with being so miserably alone, wrapped up on a blanket that smelled like her and the fact that the other side of the bed was wrongly empty.

All I could do was clench my eyes shut and try not to think about she could be hurt. Dying. Dead. I didn't understand how I thought my dad was fine - perhaps because I knew they wanted something from him, so he must be alive? - but in Emily's case... I was really scared.

And I couldn't do anything about it.

I punched my pillow a couple of times, thinking. I hadn't a clue to where this so-called portait was in the _Daily Prophet _offices. Were there any? I wasn't sure how we were going to search the place in broad daylight, and I wanted to go now. David's confessions was strange, but I just had a feeling this was the only way.

But... real Death Eaters. They were on the unknown side. It was _them_ who killed the minister, but... why did they capture my dad? He was on their side, essentially...

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

I sprung out my bed, raising my wand at the window faster than you could say 'intruder' - but it was only an owl. Lily's owl. I quickly scrambled to open the window and the she flew in, dropping a scroll of parchment on my head before flying back out.

Strange. She usually stayed for treats.

_Hey Al,_

_I thought I would take initiative to write first, since you seem (ironically) to lack the ability to pick up your quil and send my a quick note. I'm fine, thanks for asking._

_Actually, I'm not. I thought it would be easier to deal with the whole Dad situation at Hogwarts, but everything reminds me of him. All those stories, Quidditch matches - his name is in all the books and plaques, too. Everyone seems to be looking at me as though they feel sorry for me. I hate that. I don't need their pity._

_But I do feel a bit lonely. Guess who Molly's new boyfriend is? If you thought Lorcan, you'd be correct. Our own cousin ditched me for a boy. And you know all about the other girls in my year. So I am a bit lonely. Good thing Quidditch is starting soon._

_I miss Mum. I miss you. I miss James. But I really miss Dad, and I think it's because I'm scared he'll never come back. I hate to beg, but please, Al - tell me you have _some _news. Any scrap of information of what the Order is doing. Please._

_Also, I don't believe this week's issue of _Witch Weekly_ for one second. I hope Emily's not bothered by it. Have you told her you love her yet?_

_Please write soon._

_Love,_

_Lily_

With shaking hands, I folded the letter and set it back on my desk. I held onto my chair for a few moments, just to steady myself.

I felt so distant. From Emily, my family, everyone.

I collapsed back in bed and took deep, shuddering breaths. I'd never felt so helpless, exhausted and miserable all at once. I felt trapped. I couldn't do anything, and I just wanted to save the people I love most.

Instead, I let the silence suffocate me into sleep.


	43. Albus: The Invisible

**Chapter Forty-Three: Albus: The Invisible  
**

"Al, if you don't get up in the next five seconds, I am going to pour your coffee on you."

I grunted and opened an eye - just to see James standing over me, with said mug of steaming coffee. I don't know about you, but my brother's ugly face isn't really what I want to see first thing in the morning, especially after I barely slept.

"Finally," James said, sounding relieved. He sat beside me. "You weren't waking up."

"I wasn't?" I mumbled as I sat up. My bones were creaking, my muscles stiff. I felt like my body was protesting. Painfully. I shook my head, which was also throbbing. "What are you doing here?"

He handed me the coffee. "Thought you might've had a rough night."

"Understatement." I took a long sip, letting the bittersweet taste relax me. Just a little bit. I smiled gratefully to my older brother. "You're still guilty about Holly, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know what to tell you, James," I said honestly, putting the mug down on my bedside table and rubbing my eyes. "I'm not angry with you."

"I know." An awkward silence fell between us. I wanted to make him feel better, because I really wasn't mad. I didn't feel like he betrayed me, either - only at first. But he told me, and I didn't have any leftover feelings for Holly, so I just... wanted to let it go.

I mean, there was the whole fear of me doing the same thing to Emily as I did to Holly. But that didn't have anything to do with James.

I yawned. "What time is it?"

"It's seven. Listen," he said, his voice suddenly very serious. His hands clasped tightly together in lap, like he was nervous. "I went to the Order before I came here. Mum's not letting up about this. She's not going to let us take David's lead."

My shoulders sagged. "But we used veritaserum. And this might be our only chance to save Dad and Emily."

"Before it's too late."

"Exactly," I said quietly, staring down in defeat. The clenching that had been gnawing in my stomach all night was back, and it wasn't welcome.

"Which is why we're going to go anyway." My head snapped up immediately; James was grinning excitedly. "We're going to have to sneak away from the aurors, but it's not impossible -"

"Are you serious?" I interrupted, not believing my ears.

"Of course!" he said, looking highly affronted. "Everyone else is already in the kitchen, waiting for your lazy arse to get up."

I almost hugged James. _Almost._

Instead, I got out of bed, stuck my toothbrush in my mouth and began throwing things in my rucksack. There wasn't much, honestly - just my dad's old invisibility cloak, a sweater and my wand. I just wanted to get in the ministry, find them, and get out. After I changed and finished brushing my teeth, I headed to the kitchen to grab something before we left.

Of course, that was a bit of an issue since Dom and Adam were snogging against the fridge.

"What the actual fuck, guys," I groaned, and they broke apart, both red-faced. "Get out of the way!"

"Sorry, Al," Dom muttered, hurrying out of the kitchen. Adam shot me a look.

"What was that for?"

"I need to leave, in case you hadn't noticed," I told him, shoving him away from the fridge and grabbing the carton of milk and loaf of bread. "Anyway, since when do _friends _snog each other?"

"Couldn't help it," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Puffer."

"She slept over last night."

I began to laugh. "Now I _know _that is way out of the friend zone."

"We didn't do anything!" he protested as I stuck bread in the toaster. I rolled my eyes, and he put his hands up defensively. "No, seriously. We didn't even snog last night."

"Judging by your show against the fridge..."

"Shut up, Al," he snapped, actually looking offended this time. "I don't know why you're being so unhelpful. Dom's your _cousin._"

"She pushed my girlfriend in a pool."

"She's sorry, and she'll make it up to Emily, and you know that."

"I'm not trying to piss you off," I said, turning to face him. He was being defensive all of a sudden, and I honestly didn't know why. "I _do _care about my cousin, and I heard your conversation last night. Why'd she stay over if you're just friends?"

"I wanted her to stay."

"I wanted to stay." A quiet voice came from around the corner, and Dom came back into the kitchen. She must have been listening the entire time - and I suddenly felt a little guilty. Even though I had no reason to be.

Her head was down, looking at her toes. She was guilty too.

"I'm sorry, guys," I said, looking in between them. Merlin, this wasn't even any of my business. "Look, I'll just let you figure this out."

"Thanks," Adam said, pulling Dom against his side and wrapping an arm around her waist. She smiled at him, and I couldn't really think of a reason to try to keep them apart. Not if they were happy.

I mean, it wasn't usually something I thought about. Usually I didn't care what other people did. Their love lives were their mistakes, and therefore _their _problems. What did I care if Dom was rebounding? What did I care how screwed up Dom's life was? What did I care if Adam thought he could fix it?

Maybe I was starting to care. Or maybe I was just jealous.

Not that I'd admit to either of those.

* * *

Disillusionment charms seemed like the best way to go.

I mean, I had my dad's old invisibility cloak, but there was no way that was going to cover all five of us. We had to successfully sneak into the _Daily Prophet _offices, find some portrait, convince it to let us through and then search for Emily in some darkest corridor of the ministry. I was guessing the Department of Mysteries, but it could've been anywhere. Then we had to find my dad, and we had absolutely no leads - and by that time, we'd hopefully have our sixth person with us.

Disillusionment charms all the way, my friend.

Unfortunately, we didn't foresee the rather obvious problem until after we'd gotten there.

The _Daily Prophet _offices were located in Diagon Alley, so luckily, we didn't have too far to go. We escaped the aurors easily enough (fire escape) and quickly set off towards the south side of the village. We hadn't gone far before we encountered protesters that were waking the entire village with their shouts.

"I don't even understand how you can protest this," Adam muttered, and I silently agreed. Various witches and wizards marched through the streets; I noticed a many of them were our age, holding up signs with slogans along the lines of, '_END PREJUDICE_', '_GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT_' and '_WHO CONTROLS OUR GOVERNMENT_?' I felt a pang in my chest as they shouted, "FREE POTTER! FREE POTTER! FREE POTTER!"

"It seems a little counter-productive," James contemplated as we hurried along the sidewalk. "I mean, nobody knows about this group in the ministry. Who's supposed to end the prejudice against Death Eaters when they're the ones who took over the government?"

"And it seems the minister was kind of right, after all."

"Not really," Scorpius said hastily. "I really don't have a clue about this group."

"And neither does Emily," I put in.

"There's something fishy going on here," Dom agreed as we turned the corner, leaving the protesters behind. We were getting closer. "I mean, our side has a good and bad side. Maybe their side does, too."

Scorpius nodded quickly, looking slightly relieved that we believed him. And why wouldn't we? He hadn't done anything to lead us to believe he was guilty. He made a couple of mistakes, but he really did seem sorry - _and _he made it up to us. He didn't sweat the small stuff. He loved Rose, anyone could see that, and even though he and Emily weren't as close as they were before, he still cared about her. And honestly, I was depending on him to help me find her.

Maybe we just didn't get along because we were too similar.

"So this is it," I said as we reached a tall, brick building. The main office for the _Daily Prophet._I was so familiar with the place, and it was almost ironic how this was connected to my first internship, my first chance at a real job - and I resented it. Big time.

"Okay, we'd better cast the charms," Adam said, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Who's the best at disillusionment charms?"

We all turned to James, and he barely hid his smirk.

"I wasn't _that _much of a troublemaker," he muttered, digging his wand out from his belt. I shook my head, smiling; the disillusionment charm was sort of a specialty of James, almost born out of jealousy. Since Dad gave me his old invisibility cloak, James had taken it upon himself to master the advanced charm, despite being more of an average student in general. Maybe below average, at one point.

But he did master the charm. As went around, tapping each of our heads with his wand. As we looked around, it was clear that it worked; everyone had blended in within our surroundings. I could make out the outlines of each of my friends, but only barely.

"Come on," I said, gesturing to the front, even if they couldn't see. "Split up and find the portrait as fast as you can!"

And that was our first mistake. Of course it didn't occur to me that we were all invisible, and therefore splitting up would be a very _bad _idea.

I am such an idiot.

Instead, we carefully wandered around the receptionist area, being careful not to make noise as we climbed the stairs on the other side of the desk. It was early, and very few were around; I mainly saw frazzled reporters, clutching their coffee in one hand and a quill in the other.

The stairs were wooden and creaked as we went up. I headed for the uppermost floor, becoming aware that the presence behind me was no longer there. It was only when I reached the top floor and that I had to smack myself in the head.

How the _hell _were we going to find each other?

I mentally slapped myself, _hard_, but I kept going. It seemed the only way we were going to find each other was when we all found the portrait, and that could take ages... I ignored the knot in my stomach. They didn't need Emily - she could be dead. Or close to it. And my dad had been in there for weeks, and even if I knew he wasn't dead...

I shook my head. _Stop thinking like that._

I wandered around the fifth floor, around cubicles, offices, copy machines and potted plants. Surprisingly enough, there weren't _any_portraits around - not even for decoration. I thought back to when I worked there, and though I hadn't been to the fifth floor that often, I couldn't remember seeing portraits around - on any floor.

I stopped in my tracks, suddenly remembering. The ministry had been influencing the paper for as long as it had existed, and they had to have a way in and out for just that long. The portrait wasn't new, and everyone who worked there had seen it at least once.

There was _one _portrait in the Daily Prophet: in the editor's office.

I nearly groaned aloud in frustration. The editor almost never left his office, and he worked overtime nearly every day. He was old and didn't have much of a family. I was positive he also slept in his office. Just as I was about to smack myself for being an idiot, something slammed into me.

Something invisible.

"Who's that?" I whispered urgently, looking around. No one was there. Most of the journalists were huddled around the coffee machine. I reached out around me. "James?"

"It's Scorpius," came a voice from somewhere in front of me.

I sighed in relief - even if it was Malfoy. "Thank Merlin. It's me, Al."

"Did you find anything?" he asked urgently.

"I just remembered," I said guiltily. I was glad he couldn't see my face, it was likely to be bright red by now. "There's only one portrait in here."

"_What? _Where?"

I gestured to the corner of the room, to the door with a large, golden plate plastered on the oak. "There. The editor's office. But," I said frustratedly, gritting my teeth, "he never _leaves._"

"Does he sleep in there?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe he's doing that now," he whispered, and I suddenly heard his footsteps make their way to the editor's office. I hurried after him, slowing as we neared the door. I saw the doorknob turn slowly as Malfoy twisted it, and the door opened a crack.

I nearly shoved Malfoy aside to peek through. Sure enough, the old man was slumped over in his huge leather chair, bald head facing us as he snored lightly. There were papers everywhere, and his ink bottle had knocked over, leaving red ink dripping at the side of the desk.

The portrait was directly behind him. It was a huge gold frame with a thin woman in a blue dress standing in a forest. She looked very bored, like there were things she could be doing other than hanging around the editor's office all day, staring at the editor's large arse.

I leaned back. "It's in there." Malfoy pushed me gently out of the way so he could peek through.

"Yes!" he whispered excitedly. "He's sleeping. We can just -"

"No!" I hissed, grabbing blindly to what I believed to be the neck of his collar and yanking him back. "We have to get the others!"

He stilled. I think the huge flaw in our plan was beginning to dawn on him.

"Oh, _shit_."

"Exactly," I said, rubbing my temples. "We're fucking stupid."

"Agreed," he said, groaning. "I think we're going to have to try to see them."

"What?"

"Come here," he whispered, and then next thing I knew, he was grabbing my arm and dragging me to the wall beside the office. I felt him slide down the wall and sit, and I did the same. "The disillusionment charm just camouflages us with our background. We're going to have to wait and wait and see some weird, invisible movement."

"Okay," I agreed, staring around the room. So far, all I could see were empty cubicles, countless papers and more potted plants. "I guess we have to wait."

"I hate waiting."

"Me too." We fell silent. It occurred to me that this was the first time I was truly sitting down and just talking to Malfoy. Even when we were living together, we barely made small talk. There was always this divide - Rose and Malfoy, Emily and I. He'd stolen my best friend, you know. But I guess it was only fair, since I'd stolen his.

That's what it always was. Just trying to get even.

And right now, we were on the same side - as equals.

"So..." I whispered, feeling uncomfortable. "How's life?"

He paused. Then let out a small, shaky chuckle. "How's _life_?"

"That's what I asked," I said wearily, wishing I hadn't. "Never mind."

Another silence. Even more awkwardness. The smell of coffee was getting overwhelming - it must have been getting closer to nine o'clock. People were coming to work. I scanned the room, trying to focus on little cracks out of the normal. I almost didn't hear Malfoy speak.

"Hell."

I looked at him, and there was a shift around him. Like he'd buried his head in his hands or something. I tilted my head to the side, but he was still. I could hear his choppy breathing - like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

That was a weird thought, you know. Malfoy with emotions.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?" I asked uncertainly, unsure of what to do.

"No," he replied. He sounded very frustrated. "No, I'm not."

I nodded and leaned my head back against the wall, still staring around the room. "Life is hellish, I'll give you that."

"I don't know how Rose handles this," he admitted, his voice muffled. "She's the one with the fucking hormones, and I feel like a mess. I feel like I have to protect her and my baby all the time, or something bad will happen. It's killing me to be here."

"You didn't have to come," I said honestly.

"But I did!" he insisted. "I couldn't just leave my best friend there - not if I could do something."

"You guys haven't been best friends for a while."

Malfoy paused for a few moments, thinking. "I guess. You're right. Maybe I'm just overprotective."

"I'll say."

"Don't act like you're not," he retorted. "It's just... did you ever think, a few years back, how you'd be when you're of age? What you'd have accomplished?"

"Yeah, I did," I confessed. When I was about five years old, I thought I'd be an auror, just like my dad. When I was eleven, I figured I'd probably be in training. When I was fifteen, I figured I'd be a world-famous author and wouldn't have a care in the world - much less that I'd actually be in _love._

"The baby was not in the plan," he admitted. "Actually, the last time I thought about this was when I was thirteen."

"What was the plan, then?"

"Well," he said, chuckling, "I actually fancied Emily then. So I thought I'd be dating her by this time for sure. And that I'd be a world-famous Quidditch player."

"You fancied _Emily_?" I demanded, immediately stiffening. Merlin, I _knew _there was something between them, but she'd denied it, so unless she was lying -

"Only for a little while!" he said hastily. "Calm down. She never even felt the same."

My fists unclenched. I didn't even know I'd been ready to deck him. "Oh."

"Knew it was a bad idea to tell you that," he muttered, and I shrugged. "Yeah, that was the plan. No baby in sight. And now I don't even know if I want to play Quidditch anymore."

"You don't?"

"No," he admitted in a small voice. "And now Emily is gone, too."

I patted him on the shoulder - at least, I hoped it was his shoulder. "It'll pass, mate. You have Rose, and she's been pretty good with her pregnancy. You should talk to her about quitting Quidditch and supporting your baby. She won't bite your head off."

"This is _Rose _we're talking about," he said, but I could hear the laughter in his voice.

"I guess life never goes the way we... wait." I sat up suddenly. "I saw something."

"Where?" he whispered. I squinted at the doorway; I could've _sworn _there was some sort of movement, but it seemed to have -

"There!" I said, pointing to one of the cubicles, but Malfoy couldn't see. "Right there, it's moving -"

"I see it!" he hissed. Without telling him, I quickly got up and moved towards the slight, invisible movement. It was going opposite side of the room, rushing clumsily - like it was panicking. I suddenly knew who it was.

"Adam," I muttered. The movement stilled. "Adam, it's me!"

"Who's _me_?"

"Oh, come on!" I said, grabbing the air in front of me. My hands suddenly hit his back, and I grabbed onto his shirt. "It's Al!"

"Oh, good, I've been meaning to kill you!" Adam hissed, spinning around. "What a fucking stupid idea!"

"I know - wait, that was a unanimous agreement!" I retorted. "Whatever, I'm glad you're here."

"It - wait, _what_?"

"We found the portrait," I explained, feeling really stupid. You would too, if you were talking to someone invisible. "Malfoy's here, but we need to find everyone else, and you're the only one who can walk through this place unnoticed."

I couldn't see his face, but I couldn't imagine Adam's expression. "What the fuck, Al?"

I rolled my eyes. "Congratulations, Adam, you are the _only _one who isn't famous yet."

"Excuse me?"

"Turn visible, moron!" I hissed. "The others will see you and follow, but the reporters here will just think you're an intern or something, because they don't know who you are!"

There was a long pause.

"_Oh_," he said finally. "Right. I get it."

"Finally," I muttered. "Hold still."

"Don't we need James?"

"This spell is a whole lot easier to undo," I told him as I circled around him. I took out my wand, hoping I was rapping the back of his head as I undid the charm.

"It worked," I said, exhaling in relief. Adam turned around, looking terrified.

"Al, what do I do?"

"Walk around," I said, pocketing my wand. "See the office in the corner? It's the editor's office, where the portrait is. We have to somehow lead everyone there."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"And you have to do it quickly," I said apologetically. "It's almost nine. The editor's sleeping in his office, but he's bound to wake up soon when people start coming in for work."

"Al..." He pushed a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "I can't believe I came."

"Come on, Adam."

"Right." He took a deep breath and stared straight at my invisible self. "If we get out of this alive, I'm going to murder you."

* * *

Believe it or not, rounding up everyone wasn't the hard part. Neither was sneaking through the office, hoping the editor didn't wake up (he didn't. I swear that man could sleep through an earthquake). Neither was convincing the lady to let us through the portrait; apparently, she was so bored, she craved any interaction.

Stupidly enough, the hard part was getting through the portrait tunnel.

"Will you _move_?"

"There's no room, you idiot -"

"Get the fuck out of the way!"

"If someone shoves their shoes in my face again, I swear, I will -"

"Why does this place have to be so damn _small_," I muttered. The portrait was huge, but for some reason, the tunnel was like a pipe. A very small pipe, that was dark and damp and we could barely fit and shove our way through. I was the last one in there, behind everyone. I felt suffocated and I just wanted to be out of there.

I just couldn't believe that people from the ministry shoved their way through this pipe just to get through to the Daily Prophet secretly. In fact, I was almost _positive _they didn't. Most fully-grown adults couldn't even fit in this place, and I was supposed to believe they made multiple trips here and back? It was suspicious.

_Everything _about this was suspicious.

I mean, let's go back to the beginning. Mr. Birch wanted to arrest suspicious purebloods, Slytherins and anyone connected to a Death Eater because he was scared of a war. And it turned out he was right - but only two months after he passed the law that allowed him to lock up all those people.

And the weirdest part was that this wasn't a _war. _How could anyone call it one? People were fighting and protesting, but not physically. Most people didn't even know who the enemy was, anymore. They first thought it was my dad, because he was against the minister. Then they thought it was Mr. Birch, because he passed the horrible law. Then everything flipped, and nobody knew who the real enemy was.

The "real" enemy, as it turned out, were the Death Eaters, after all. But that didn't make sense, either. They were supposed to be following Voldemort, who _died._And there were too many people I knew that wouldn't ever shove everyone out of the ministry, kill the minister and capture my dad - who was, in fact, on the Death Eater's side.

How were the Death Eaters the enemy, anyway? They weren't attacking anyone in general. Well, besides my dad. And Emily. We didn't know who the Death Eaters _were, _besides David. He said that they were keeping Emily in the "_darkest corridor of the Department of Mysteries._" He said, "_We need something from Harry Potter._" What was it?

"We're here!" James shouted from the front, his voice breaking into my thoughts. I saw a small beam of light ahead, at the end of the tunnel. I shook my head, as if in a daze, but my mind was reeling. I was remembering what David had said on veritaserum, and then _disappeared,_and if this didn't mean he was a Death Eater, I didn't know what did.

"_We need something from Harry Potter. His family must come. If they do not come, we will take Emily to bring Albus Potter into the ministry."_

To bring Albus Potter INTO THE MINISTRY.

I was an idiot. I was _such an idiot._

This was a trap.


	44. Albus: The Trapped

**Chapter Forty-Four: Albus: The Trapped**

If there was a time I hadn't known what to do, that was it.

There were just too many options. I mean, we were _right there._ My dad and Emily were so close, and I knew they were there, and hopefully we weren't too late. But if I went back, I could've told the Order of the entrance to the ministry – get back up, since it was pretty obvious we were facing magic no one in England had ever dealt with before.

I should've listened to my mum.

But the pull of my dad, trapped here for weeks, those Death Eaters torturing him to get what they wanted, and of Emily – _not dead not dead not dead_ – was a bit too strong. I kept silent, as I was the last to get out the portrait hole, watching my friends as they debated where they could be. I doubted this was a trap for them – after all, for some reason, they wanted _me _here, not them – but I couldn't help but feel like they'd be spares.

"Guys," I said loudly, breaking into their discussion of Merlin-knows-what, "I think you should go back and get help."

They all turned to me, shell-shocked.

"What, and let you go in yourself?" Adam asked in disbelief.

"Yes, don't you remember what David said?" I demanded, trying to sound more confident. I didn't really want to go in alone, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was getting them into something… well, fatal. "This is a trap. You guys need to go back, so I can at least try to find Emily before they –"

"Don't finish that sentence," Scorpius interrupted sharply.

James smacked me on the head. "You're not going in alone, you idiot."

"But what if –"

"Anyway, onto more important things," James said loudly, effectively cutting me off and turning back to the others. "I'm not sure what he meant by 'darkest corridor of the ministry', but I'm going to guess the Department of Mysteries."

"Do you think they kept Uncle Harry there, too?" Dom asked.

"No, probably not," I put in, having given up. I guess they were dead-set on this. "I'm thinking he was supposed to be kept in a secure place, and that's not exactly ideal."

"Emily is more disposable to them," James pointed out, and I wanted to strangle him. But he was right. "We might want to split up, so we can search for both."

"We're not splitting up," Dom said immediately, going pale.

"No, I think it's a good idea," I said slowly, thinking hard. "You guys find my dad, and Scorpius and I will get Emily. Get in and get out before we can get trapped in this place."

"But how will we find each other?" Adam asked. He wasn't looking at me, but at Dom, who seemed scared out of her mind at this point.

And I didn't really blame her. The portrait had led us to the main hall of the ministry – but it was empty. And clean. If I hadn't known that people had been forced out, I would've just guessed that everything was normal, and this was normal for the middle of the night. But it wasn't the middle of the night. It was quiet and eerie, and we definitely weren't supposed to be there.

"Let's not split up," Adam suggested, putting an arm around Dom. "We wouldn't have a way to find each other anyway, and if this really is a trap, we need all the help we can get."

James nodded, directing his next question to me. "Al, who first? Emily or Dad?"

_What kind of question is that?_

I groaned, pressing a hand through my hair. "Merlin, James, I don't know. Dad's been in here for a long time, but they hurt Emily more, because they don't want anything from her."

"Also, we have some clue to where she is," Scorpius added. "I'd say we find her first."

James settled his gaze onto me, seeming disappointed. I understood why, but I didn't know what else to do. I'd been trying to get into the ministry for weeks, ever since he was kidnapped, but I physically couldn't. I tried. I'd never done something so rebellious in my life, and it wasn't as though I didn't care for my dad. I just had no other choice.

But I was finally there, wasn't I? Didn't that mean anything?

His expression was stony and sullen, and he didn't look at me as we took the elevator down. Dom was huddled close to Adam, who usually looked happy about this, but he seemed to be as scared as she was, at this point. Scorpius was defensive, wand tight in his hand, as though he was just waiting for something to happen. I knew he was there for Emily, and not for my dad, but I appreciated it just the same.

The elevator shuddered as it reached the ninth floor, squeaking as it opened. We stumbled out, cautiously walking in the corridor towards a black door. James automatically took charge, not hesitating to open it and lead us into the room.

It was a circular room. I vaguely remembered my dad's description of this in one of his stories he told me as a little kid, and I felt my stomach twist. It was as though a vivid, horrible nightmare had become real.

"Which door…" James trailed off, jaw clenched and thinking hard. I didn't blame him. The dimly lit room had five doors besides the entrance, and as soon as the entry door shut, the room rumbled and turned, quicker than our eyes could focus. We weren't sure whether the walls were moving or us, but we gripped for each other anyway, just to make sure.

As the doors stopped moving, I realized the point: we weren't going to find this "darkest corridor" on the first try, and when we came back, we weren't even going to be able to figure out which doors we'd tried. We didn't even know which one was the entrance.

"Shit," Adam muttered, clapping a hand to my shoulder. "Well, which one do we start?"

"We're not splitting up," Dom said quickly, even though no one had suggested it. Or about to. This place was creepy and all kinds of dangerous.

Merlin, if Emily was somewhere _here…_

No. Not going there.

"Okay, well we have to start _somewhere_," I said, running both hands through my hair and glancing from door to door. They were all the same – black, plain and scary-looking. I shrugged and pointed to the one in front of us. "Might as well, right?"

"You can go first," Adam said nervously. He poked a finger to the middle of my back and I stumbled forwards towards the door. I grasped the handle tentatively; I didn't know what I was going to face on the other side. Death Eaters? Metal chains and traps? Killing curse? Some monstrous creature Hagrid had probably set loose?

He did that a lot, you know. 'Misunderstood creatures', my arse.

I opened it a crack and peered through. It seemed pretty bright, so it couldn't have been the corridor David was talking about, but –

"Bloody hell, this is the entrance," James groaned. I slumped and shut the door, immediately jumping back as the walls began to blur before our eyes. As they slowed down, James nudged me. "Remember what Dad said?"

"About this place?" I asked. "Yeah, to stay away at all costs."

"No, in the stories." I blinked in confusion, and he rolled his eyes. "Maybe you were too young."

"Was not."

"Remember he told us about the rooms?" he asked. "He said there was that one that's always locked. There's another one where he found that death-thingy."

"Death-thingy?"

"Shut it," James snapped to a sniggering Adam. "That's where he fought all those Death Eaters and Voldemort, remember? Do you think that's the room?"

I paled. "But… _death_?"

"I mean, death and darkness…" James shrugged, but he looked worried. "They go hand-in-hand, don't they?"

I felt a lump in my throat. "No offense, but I hope you're wrong."

"I think we don't really have a choice there," Scorpius pointed out. He looked entirely in denial, and I was pretty sure I knew how he felt. "The room moves as soon as we shut each door, so we'll just have to check every one we can."

So we tried. We didn't know how to mark the doors and didn't want to split up, so we kept choosing the one that came in front of us, thinking we'd encounter it _eventually_. Turned out that we found the entrance a couple of times (again), encountered the locked door then finally found a different room. James carefully opened the door, not bothering to hesitate like I did and strolled inside, wand outstretched, the rest of us trailing behind him.

The first thing that struck me was that everything was glittering, like fresh snow in the sun. Then I realized there were clocks ticking at us from every nook and corner of a narrow chamber, and what seemed to be smashed time turners scattered on the ground. It didn't seem like anyone had been there in years, and there was no dark corridor in sight.

"This can't be it," James muttered, stepping over the crushed glass.

"Where does that door lead?" Adam said suddenly. I followed his gaze to a door farther in the chamber, hearing the door slam shut in the distance.

Uh oh.

"That didn't lock, did it?" Dom said nervously.

"We'd better try that door, then," James said confidently, despite the fact that he looked as shaken as she did. We hurried over, the broken glass crunching beneath our feet.

The next room was much larger, with giant benches leading up to a platform with a large stone archway covered in curtains. There were more doors leading out of the room, but no corridor.

"Emily, where are you…" Dom murmured, walking around the benches.

I swallowed thickly. "We should try another door."

"Which _one_?" Scorpius asked, sounding frustrated. "There are just about twenty in here!"

"Probably not the one we just came through," Adam pointed out unhelpfully.

"Come on," I muttered irritably, hurrying towards the door on the left wall of the square room. I didn't hesitate to fling open the door, which was an acceptable decision on my part, but it was _not_ a good decision was to look around the new room we'd just entered.

Because to the right of this corridor was a tank full of _brains._

"What the _actual _fuck!" I shouted in disbelief. Dom screamed.

James pushed me forwards and I kept running, to the opposite side of the room and through yet another door. As soon as I ran into this one, I nearly lost my balance and fell on my arse. Actually – I did lose my balance.

But I didn't fall, since we were somehow floating.

My friends slammed into me as I skidded to a halt. Or tried to. I fell and somehow found myself staring at the floor, arms flailing, feet probably kicking James in the face as I floated right above the ground.

"What is this place?" I heard Adam ask as I tried to bring myself back to standing position. Which looked quite stupid, since I was flapping my arms. "Are those_ planets_?"

He was right. It was dark, numerous doors lining the walls and large, colourful orbs floating in midair. It was very strange; they seemed to aligned in the orbit, but there didn't seem to be a Sun present. Probably because it wasn't a planet.

I floated around the room, looking ridiculous because I looked like I was swimming in mid-air, but I didn't care; this was by far the closest to a "dark corridor" than any other of the rooms. Luckily, I wasn't the only one sort-of swimming around; Scorpius flapped over to me and caught my gaze.

"Do you think this is it?" he asked, frowning.

"It seems like it, doesn't it?" I replied as reached for the wall beside me, trying to grab onto it so I could direct my way towards the other side. "It's dark, but there isn't really – ARGHHH!"

I saw Scorpius lunge for me right before I was suddenly sucked into the wall. I felt his hands grab my feet right before I fell to the ground behind the wall. I sat up and squinted as he pulled me back; I'd fallen into some sort of dark hole with gravity, and it was so dark in the other room that I hadn't realized it was a wall.

_Not dark hole,_ I realized. _Black hole._

Scorpius pulled the rest of me back and grasped my arms, looking terrified. Everyone was flapping their arms, trying to gather round. "What happened?"

"It's a black hole," I said in awe, looking back at the blackness behind me. "Not a wall. It's still trying to suck me back –" I cut off, my eyes widening. "Holy _shit._"

"This is where Emily must be," Scorpius whispered, realizing it at the same time I did. "Is it a corridor?"

"Sort of, I guess." _Black holes have gravity. They suck light._ I glanced behind me again. "I'm betting magic won't work in there, it'll absorb light. I wouldn't have been able to figure out where I was if you hadn't gotten me out."

"Are you going to look?" Dom piped up, sounding scared. "Do you really think she's in there?"

"She has to be," I said almost desperately, staring at the hole. "Where else could she be?"

"But how will we get out, even if we find her?" Scorpius asked.

My eyes narrowed. "_We?_ I don't think so."

"Al's right," James cut in as he conjured up rope. _Rope?_ "We can't have two of you go in and get lost, and we don't even know what's in there. We'll tie this around Al in case we need to pull him out."

"But I could help!" Scorpius argued, looking furious. "We shouldn't split up!"

"This could be a trap," I added, pulling the end of the rope from James and looping it around my waist. "I don't want you getting caught, okay? It's supposed to be me."

"And with any luck, it won't be," James mumbled, tightening the knot. He wasn't looking at me as he cast an extension charm on the rope. "Just get in, find her as fast as you can, and whenever you want to get out, tug three times."

Scorpius looked like he was about to argue again, but thought better of it. He let go of me and floated back from the hole to avoid being sucked in, allowing me to go through. Into the unknown, where I would be blind and practically defenseless.

I grinned weakly at my worried friends.

_Well, here goes nothing._

* * *

Getting in definitely wasn't the hard part.

I was instantly sucked in and fell over again, this time actually falling flat on my face. I groaned, standing from the cold floor and trying to get used to gravity, blinking rapidly and trying to find some kind of light – but there wasn't any for my eyes to adjust to.

"_Lumos_," I whispered feebly, but it was no use. There wasn't even a flicker of light that escaped – and if there was, it was quickly sucked in. I pocketed my wand and stepped forwards, feeling as though I was about to fall off a cliff.

It was a bit like when I read late into the night, and when I had to get up to turn off my light, the trip back to my bed was a little unsettling, because of the sudden darkness. I was unbalanced, wandering into nowhere, and there was no moonlight for my eyes to see the pillow before I collapsed onto my bed.

There wasn't a cliff, though. It just seemed to be a huge room. Corridor. I couldn't exactly see it. I wandered aimlessly, making twists and turns but a hundred percent sure that I wasn't going backwards. Which was a good sign, really. But I couldn't help having that nagging voice in the back of my mind, one that sounded vaguely like my mum, repeating over and over as the darkness inflicted self-doubt upon myself.

_She's not here._

But I brushed it off, because this _had_ to be it. Where else could she be? David said the darkest corridor of the ministry, and if this wasn't dark, I didn't know _what_ it was.

I felt more and more uneasy as I wandered. Was she really there? Wouldn't I have found her by now? How big was the Department of Mysteries? I grew more and more nervous, the rope around my waist grounding me to reality. James seemed to tug every now and then, almost comforting me. I didn't want to give up, just in case, but what if she really wasn't there? Was I wasting time?

It was only after what felt like hours that I heard a small, weak voice.

"Who's there?"

I froze. That was her. That was her, it had to be her, it sounded _just like her_ -

"It's me," I said before I could stop myself. Stupid, stupid. My voice was barely legible, it was so raspy. I cleared my throat, praying that I wasn't walking into a trap. "It's me, Al."

I heard her breath hitch from - somewhere. I couldn't pinpoint where, it was as though the place swallowed all my senses. I was also positively sure she'd stopped breathing; I couldn't hear her at all. I didn't dare to breathe. That _had_ to be her.

"Emily?" I said hesitantly, quietly. "Is that you?" _Please let it be her, please -_

"Yes," she whispered from somewhere - on my right. Or was that on my left? "Is it really you?"

It was as though my entire body had flooded with energy - or adrenaline, because where else would it have come from? I was shaking; Emily was here. That had to be her. She was so close, I could just _feel _it.

"Oh Merlin, this can't be you," she said, breaking into my thoughts. "This is just my stupid hallucinations, isn't it? You're never going to come, are you? I'm going to die here."

I immediately shook my head, even though she couldn't see it. "You're not, okay? I'm here, I swear it's me."

"This is just cruel, okay?" she said, her voice breaking. "I'm going insane, I know I am..."

I heard her begin to shudder with short breaths, like she was crying. I kept entirely still, even though I just wanted to rush into the darkness, aimlessly shouting and feeling for her until I found her. I wanted to hold her and never let go.

"Emily, please..." I felt a lump rising in my throat. I couldn't hear where she was, dammit, and I wanted to, so badly. She was _right here._ "Don't cry, just -"

"I can't see anything," she breathed, sniffing. "I can't. Stop torturing me."

I stilled. That was on my right. It was definitely on my right. I took a tentative step in that direction, still straining my ears. "They're - they're torturing you?"

"Yes," she said, her voice shaking violently. I moved closer. "I don't know how, I never see or hear them, all the pain just comes at once, like they're stabbing me all over -" She dissolved in another round of tears. My heart thudded in my chest, barely listening to what she was saying. I needed to concentrate.

"Why are they torturing you?" I asked desperately. Her sobs were getting louder.

"I don't know," she gasped. "They want me to join them, but I don't want to, and then they told me I was useless and threw me in here."

I was so close. She was right _there_, I could feel her body heat. I just wanted to lean down and throw my arms tightly around her, but I just... had to make sure it was her. Not a trap.

I stopped. "Emily, tell me the last thing I said to you before you left."

Her breath hitched again. I think she only just realized in the midst of her tears that there was someone standing in front of her. That she wasn't just imagining it. I heard her rise to her feet. Her hand reached out and touched the middle of my torso.

"Al?" she whispered. I felt her hand leave my chest. "No - no, I'm dreaming, I know I am -"

"Tell me," I urged, feeling down her arm and grasping her hand. Tears rose in my eyes; this was how she felt. I felt as though I wanted to memorize her skin - the feel of it, her warmth. "What did I say?"

She paused. "You told me not to run away," she said softly. This seemed to bring on another round of tears, and she clutched at my hand. "Is it - it is really you?"

It was as though relief and panic were simultaneously engulfing me. I needed to hold her and make her stop crying and tell her how much I love her - and it was so overwhelming, I felt like my limbs were too heavy to move. She was alive and _here_.

_I found her._

"Al?" she said, her other hand moving to my cheek.

"It's me," I whispered.

Immediately, she pulled me towards her and threw her arms around my neck. I clung to her. "Please tell me you're real, Al. Please, I can't stand it anymore -"

"Of course I'm real," I whispered, my breath brushing against her neck. I found her. _I found her._ My arms were gripping her so tight, I was surprised she didn't squirm. "Emily, you're alive..."

"I thought I was going to die here," she confessed miserably. "Am I? Are we? I've tried so hard to get out, but I -"

"I know the way," I assured her, bringing her hands to the rope around my waist. She buried her face in my neck.

"I'm blind," she mumbled. "I'm sure of it. I can't see anything, no matter how hard I try -"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Not my eyes," she admitted. "But they keep using the Crutiatus curse on me... even when I'm sleeping, they just wake me with it, and everything hurts."

I kissed her shoulder. "You're not blind, this place... it's like it sucks light. _Lumos _doesn't even work." I felt her knees buckle. "You feel so weak."

She wrapped her legs around my waist and held tightly, afraid of falling. "Al, I'm so sorry."

"Don't even think about that right now."

"I was going to come back," she whispered in my ear. Her tears were making my shirt wet, but I didn't care. "I swear, I just needed some space for a _second_ and then when I came home, they attacked me."

"I know, I know..." I said gently, kneeling down to the cold floor. She wouldn't let go of me as we sat down. "It's okay."

"It's not okay."

"It's not important right now," I insisted. "What matters is that you're alive." I wiped my eyes. "I'm so glad you're alive." She lifted her head and her nose brushed mine, as though she were looking at me, despite the darkness.

"I love you, Al," she said softly. "I love you so much."

I stilled for a moment, barely believing it - then I couldn't resist. I pressed my lips against hers. Then her nose. Then her chin. Her jaw, her neck, and everywhere I could reach. My lips came to her forehead, hands cradling her face as more tears fell down. I couldn't speak, and neither could she.

All she could do past this point was cry. And I understood.

It was as though she'd lost hope.

* * *

She fell quiet after a few minutes, or longer. I couldn't tell. I rocked her back and forth, afraid to hurt her more. I felt her heart against my chest, and it felt like a miracle. A real, fucking _miracle._

(I felt like a sap, but I couldn't bring myself to care.)

"Where does it hurt?" I asked after a while.

She sniffed. "Everywhere."

"Did they physically hurt you?"

"I have a cut on my arm from when they took me," she said quietly. "Some of their hexes injured me, but mostly, it was just... you know. Torture." She leaned further into me as I kissed her forehead. "How long have I been in here?"

"A few days." It was harder to admit than I thought. "I'm sorry, I tried, I really did, it's just -"

"Thank you," she interrupted, squeezing my hand. "I didn't know if you'd come."

"Don't be stupid, I would never leave you in here." I pushed her off my lap and turned around. "Get on my back."

"I can walk," she lied.

"I need to make sure we're both going the right way," I explained, looking over my shoulder. I couldn't see her, but still. "I tied rope around my waist, and James has the other end."

"James is here?"

"I hope everyone is here by now."

I felt her hands slide up my back to my neck. Just as she was climbing on, she fell back with a loud shout. I spun around in horror as she began to cry and scream, her voice echoing in the darkness.

"STOP!" I roared, feeling around for her. She kept moving out of my grip, shrieking in pain. I didn't know who I was talking to, no one else was there, but they just - I couldn't stand it. I grabbed onto her hips and held her as still as I could.

"Make it stop," she begged, still twisting violently. "Please, it hurts -"

And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Emily panted as I felt around in the dark, trying to pull her to me.

"Does that happen a lot?" I whispered, trying to keep my composure, but I was scared. She weakly gripped at my arm to pull herself up, but that's all she could do before collapsing onto me. "Emily, stay awake, come on..."

She breathed deeply, evidently trying to slow her heart. "Get me out of here. Please."

I quickly turned around and let her climb onto my back. It took her a couple of tries, but eventually, she was successfully gripping me. I moved the rope to the front of my body and tugged on it three times, like James had said. Immediately, it was pulling us forward.

I broke into a run.

* * *

It seemed like I'd been running/walking/stumbling/tripping for hours in the darkness. The rope couldn't have been that long, since I still felt the pull, but it was clear that the dark hole-like corridor wasn't going to show us back to the space room, since it was sucking all the light.

And Emily had fallen asleep.

Or fainted. But I prefer sleep.

I just wanted to get her out of there. It was ages before I heard a quiet murmur of voices nearby, and though I couldn't see them, I knew it was my friends. Using a burst of energy, I quickly ran as fast as I could in that direction. It was just darkness, black, more and then –

_Fuck, _that's bright.

James quickly rushed over to steady me. I felt like just laying on the ground and collapsing, but unfortunately, we were floating again. I felt Emily stir from the dim light and our friend's voices. She clenched onto my shoulders.

"Where are we?" she asked sleepily.

"In the Department of Mysteries," James answered, undoing the knot on my waist. Emily slipped off my back, only to be scooped up again by Scorpius.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he mumbled, hugging her tightly.

I turned to see her properly. Honestly speaking, she looked absolutely horrible; she was still wearing my clothes, except it seemed that someone had ripped my sweatshirt off of her and slashed her arm. She was covered with scratches, but nothing major. There were dark circles underneath her eyes and her hair was greasy and messy.

But she was alive.

She turned to hug Adam next, who picked her up and spun her around. She chuckled weakly as he put her down. "Thank Merlin. Al's a prat when you're not around, you know that?"

"He's always been a prat," Dom piped up, looking nervously at her. Emily didn't hesitate in throwing her arms around her, and she relaxed. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Emily whispered.

"What happened in there?" she asked, suddenly becoming less guilty and more Dom-like. She grasped Emily by the shoulders and held her at arm-length. "Do you need anything? When's the last time you slept or ate?"

"I haven't had anything since before they took me," she admitted. Dom's eyes widened and immediately began digging through her rucksack for food as James brought Emily in for a hug.

"Let's go somewhere we can sit," he said, pushing her towards the room with brains in tanks. We made our way back to the door we'd entered, Dom still rifling through her bag for the sandwiches we'd packed.

"So, where to next?" Adam asked after we'd sat down and started eating. "Any idea where Mr. Potter could be?"

"He doesn't seem to be here," James said through a full mouth. "It doesn't look like anyone's been here in years."

"But where else could he be?" I contemplated, thinking hard. "There are tons of departments – except I doubt they'd keep him in the auror office, since he'd know it best –"

"I saw him," Emily said quietly. I whipped around; she swallowed the last bit of her sandwich, leaned against my arm and lacing our fingers together. "I don't really know where it was, but it was this huge office, and he was locked inside. They set up bars for him."

"Huge office?" I repeated. "You don't think he's in the minister's office, do you?"

"That's ironic," Scorpius muttered. He took a sip of water before surveying my brother and I. "We need a plan."

"Yeah," Emily agreed, subtly squeezing my hand. "I know they're expecting you guys to just charge in and blow up the bars, but that's the trap. Once you step inside the office, you're powerless."

"Why?"

"Magic doesn't work in there," she explained, reaching for a water bottle. "They locked me in there for a few minutes when I first got here. I got to talk to your dad for a second," she added, giving me a small smile. "He's doing okay. They're keeping him alive, but I don't know why. He just told me to make sure I didn't piss them off, because it didn't matter to them whether I was alive or not."

I kissed her forehead. "How'd you end up in the black hole?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "They stunned me and threw me in there."

"They interrogated you, didn't they?" Scorpius asked her, leaning forward a little. "Did they ask you to join them?"

She sighed. "Yeah. They told me I was there because they were luring you in," she said, looking at me. "This whole thing was a setup. They killed the minister to get your dad into the ministry so they could get what they wanted, but when that didn't work, they tried to lure you here by taking me."

"But why do they want me?" I asked, confused.

"So they can blackmail Mr. Potter, obviously," Scorpius cut in. His eyes were screwed shut in concentration. "But they didn't need Emily after she was taken, and she denied joining the Death Eater force." Emily nodded in confirmation. "But why didn't they kill you?"

"I don't know," she said softly, closing her eyes. "Maybe they didn't expect you to find me."

"Okay, so we need a plan," Adam piped up, dusting crumbs off his lap. "I guess we can't go _into_ the office, but there must be some way to get him out."

"Break the wall?" Dom suggested meekly.

"Too dangerous, the ceiling could cave in from that sort of explosion," Scorpius dismissed. "We need to somehow destroy the prison bars and get Mr. Potter out, but not fall into the trap."

"There are guards, too," Emily added sleepily.

"I have my dad's invisibility cloak," I said suddenly, remembering. I pulled it out of my rucksack and handed it to James. "You have better aim. You can stand outside the office and dissolve the bars, but you have to make sure Dad doesn't fall into the trap."

"What if the door isn't open?" he asked uneasily.

"Destroy it?" Adam suggested, grinning.

"You want to take her home?" I asked Scorpius, wrapping an arm around Emily. "You can get backup, and I'm sure Rose is worried, too –"

"I'm not going anywhere," she interrupted firmly, digging her face into my chest.

I rolled my eyes. "You look like you're going to pass out."

"I'm fine, I just ate."

"So you must be full and sleepy."

"Bullshit, I now have energy."

"But you're injured."

"It's not that bad."

"You've been stuck in that place for days –"

"You can't tell me what to do," she teased, leaning back and sticking her tongue out at me. She looked to James, who was trying not to laugh. "We're running out of time, aren't we?"

He snapped out of it and immediately stood. We immediately followed suit in preparation to leave. "Yeah, we'd better get going."

Emily glanced back to me, and I shook my head stubbornly. "No, I don't think so. You're hurt and tired and couldn't even walk before now!"

"Maybe because they were starving me!" she shot back.

"You need time to get better!"

"Bloody hell, Al, I'm not _glass_!" she ground out through gritted teeth. I was aware of everyone watching us impatiently, but I couldn't let it go; they didn't see her in the black hole. They didn't see her so weak and defenseless.

But now she was staring at me defiantly, arms crossed and determined. And while I thought she was being ridiculously stubborn and stupid, but I couldn't help but feel a little bit relieved, that despite her time captured, she was still Emily.

It gave me hope for my dad.

"Stay with me, okay?" I asked quietly, hating myself as I spoke. "Keep out of the limelight."

She nodded slowly, and the tension seemed to break in the room. James gestured for us to start moving back to try and get back to round room, to try to find the entrance. Emily held me back, her grip tight around my wrist.

I frowned at her. "What're you –"

She cut me off by kissing me. Her hands tightly gripped my collar to bring me closer. It was short and frantic and I found myself clinging to her in those few, blissful seconds. I knew she was scared, but I had a feeling I knew why she was staying.

"You don't have to help," I whispered against her lips. "Go home. Stay safe."

"But I want to." She kissed me again, slowly. "Come on, we can do this." Then she was pulling me by the hand to catch up to the others. She would really do this for my dad, for me. I couldn't help but smile.

They couldn't break her. And I loved her for that.

* * *

A/N: Emily's back! She's (mostly) okay! She told Al she loves him! They're still in the ministry! AHHHH!

Sorry for the overuse of exclamation points ;D I also apologize for the lateness of the chapter, it was really hard to write... but I hope it turned out okay. Next chapter has already been started (and it's exciting!), so expect an update in about a week or two :)

Any thoughts on this? What do you think is going to happen?

Thanks for reading, and please review :D


	45. Emily: The Redemption

**Chapter Forty-Five: Emily: The Redemption**

I should've listened to Al.

It's not that I _wanted _to go home – well, I did, but I didn't want to ditch my friends. The only way I could go back is if everything went back to normal. But I couldn't leave, not after what Al did for me. The boy saved my life in more ways than one. I loved him, and I wasn't about to ditch and not be there for him.

I mean, he may not have even needed me, but I wanted to be there. Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn't just go home and wait for news, not knowing my friends were dead or alive. This wasn't just anyone… it was Al.

But I soon realized that he was right – I should've gone home. He wasn't trying to control me – he knew he couldn't – but he knew I wasn't up for this. I hadn't mentioned to the others how sore I was from all torture, how I was so sleep deprived that if I sat down, I was definitely going to pass out, and how hungry and thirsty I was. I definitely wasn't up for a fight.

But there was no way I was leaving.

I was still barefoot – I'd been wearing flats the night I was captured, and they were still in Al's room – so he had to carry me through a room with shattered glass all over the floor. That's when I fell asleep, and the bastard didn't wake me up until we were near the minister's office.

Ever wanted to strangle someone for being so sweet yet so infuriating?

Al set me down on a chair and I rubbed my eyes. Dom handed me water; both of them were very distracted, and were the only other ones in the room. We seemed to be in some sort of small office.

"Where are we?" I asked sleepily.

"We're on the floor of the minister's office," he told me as I took a sip of water. "James has my invisibility cloak, and he's taking a look around."

My jaw dropped. "You have an invisibility cloak?"

"Yup. Malfoy went for backup," he continued, not noticing my awe, "and Adam's keeping lookout right now." I looked around Al and saw Adam peeking out the door. "We're just in an empty office. Looks pretty safe and deserted."

I blinked, trying to wrap my head around it all. I remembered what happened when I was last on this floor. I'd woken up in Mr. Potter's cell – he'd woken me. Then he warned me to keep my mouth shut so I wouldn't get hurt. I remembered that the cell was only half of the room, and the trap was activated by stepping in the other half. I also remembered that the door was open, and that the guards around the room were young. My classmates.

Were Scorpius and I the only Slytherins who didn't become Death Eaters?

"Guys, what would happen if we just stunned all the guards?" Dom asked, gnawing on her bottom lip.

"What, like they all dropped dead?" Al asked skeptically.

"Sort of."

"I bet we'd only have a few minutes," I told them. "The older Death Eaters aren't here, but I'm sure they'd notice soon and come over. Something would tip them off."

Al turned to me, eyebrows furrowed. "How does the trap work?"

"Erm, like any trap. Step into the room, bars slide over the door."

Al yanked Adam from the door and brought him into our circle. "I think Dom's right, we should split up, surround them, and stun the guards. James will get rid of the bars. You two –" he nodded at Adam and Dom "– will keep a lookout. We –" he gestured to himself and I "– will have to help James levitate my dad out of the room."

"Splendid idea!" James said brightly, appearing out of nowhere. We all jumped.

"Don't _do_ that!" Dom cried, smacking him in the arm. He grinned sheepishly at her and slung what I presumed to be the invisibility clock over his arm.

"So, what do we do after we get Dad out?" he asked.

"Well, hopefully Scorpius comes back with backup by then," Al replied. I smiled – this was the first time Al had used my best friend's first name.

"And if not?"

"Then we run like hell," Al admitted, and we laughed. He looked back to me and took my hand comfortingly. "Ready?"

I nodded.

I think he needed more reassurance than I did.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, stunning them was the easy part.

But it wasn't easy.

Level two was shaped in a square, hallways lining the perimeter. We were near the office closest to the entrance elevator, and there were two ways of getting to the minister's office on the other side: left or right.

That didn't exactly give us clear visibility.

James snuck out first, using the invisibility cloak. We pressed our ears to the door, listening for any indication that he'd taken down any guards. Our hallway – parallel to the minister's office hallway – was clear, but the left and right hallways were guarded by two pacing guards.

James appeared only a couple of minutes later.

"Piece of cake," he said calmly to our anxious expressions. "Only one guard on the left and right hallways. It's the hall on the other side that is the most guarded."

"How many?"

"Ten, but they're not guarding." James rolled his eyes. "Overconfident no one would get in the ministry, they're off their game. They're just sitting around, we can take 'em." With that, he dumped the cloak in my hands.

"What do I need this for?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"No wand, right?" he reminded me, giving me a reassuring smile before turning away. "C'mon, let's move."

"Meet me at the minister's door when we get it open," Al muttered to me. I nodded and put on the cloak, leaving the office last.

Al and James tiptoed into the left hallway, Dom and Adam taking the right. I followed Al, hurrying in front of them; it was so _strange_ being invisible, seeing everyone's blank looks as they stared right at me.

As I turned the corner, I saw James was very right. Ten barely-of-age Slytherins guarding a door without supervisors? They were bored as hell. Some were talking, gossiping. Some were playing cards. Some were eating. Some were even napping.

I saw Al and Adam peek behind their corners, meeting each other's gaze. As Al held up three fingers, I quickly hurried back into the side hallway.

Three.

Two.

One.

Two of the napping guards had been hit by Dom and Adam. James got a burly-looking kid who'd had his back turned, and Al got one of the gossiping girls. The other six guards sprung into action, but other two were taken down by Stunners.

One blonde-haired girl got Adam with a Stinging Hex, and Dom yelled, "_Petrificus totalus_!" The girl fell the floor with a thud as two boys aimed at Al, both yelling, _Crucio!_" – a spell I knew very well.

James yanked him out of the way and ducked as a couple of Stunners were sent their way, and Adam and Dom stunned the two boys. The fourth and last boy had been hiding behind the two boys, standing in fear – he was younger, no older than sixteen. James quickly Stunned him as the other raised his wand.

I hurried over to Al and helped him up. He grabbed the invisibility cloak off of me and stuffed it in his bag, grinning at me. "That was easier than I thought."

"Two Cruciatus curses at once isn't fun," I said in a voice so small, I wasn't sure Al could hear – but he did. His smile faltered.

"Guys, let's hurry," he said, pulling me to the door. Adam and Dom had separated to the side hallways to keep a lookout, and James was already unlocking the door. When it was open after a couple of spells, he paled.

Al had to pull on the back of James' shirt to keep him from running inside. Then he froze. I rose on my toes, touching Al's shoulders lightly and peeking into the room – and cringed.

It seemed like they had just about given up on keeping Mr. Potter alive. He was sitting on a bed, eyes closed, slumped over and still. The pitcher beside his bed as empty, and there was no food in sight. He looked weak, thin.

"Dad," Al croaked, and I slid my arms around him from behind. James quickly shook his head and concentrated on the cell bars fixated in the middle of the office. They dissolved into thin air.

Mr. Potter didn't move.

"Be careful," I whispered, stepping back as Al and James shakily raised their wands. I was right: magic didn't work inside the room, but only if you cast it from inside. Working together, they levitated Mr. Potter up a few inches. Then a few more. He floated across the room like a rag doll until he was out. Right in front of me. Eyes still closed.

But he was still breathing.

"_Ennervate_," Al whispered, and Mr. Potter opened his eyes. I saw James and Al's eyes fill with relief, and the next thing I knew, they'd thrown their arms around him, muttering softly to him.

Even I felt like I could breathe again.

"Let's go," I whispered, tugging on Al's sleeve. He nodded and let James lead Mr. Potter out arm around him. I turned to follow.

But I couldn't.

"Emily?" Al asked gently, worried. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't speak.

But then I began to scream.

It was as though a few hundred knives had surrounded me and plunged through my skin, tearing me open by every tissue, every vein, every bone. My vision went red, I couldn't see, think, hear – only feel the unbearable pain. I was begging, somewhere in my mind, but it didn't stop.

And then it was over, and I was breathing hard, blinking up at a terrified Al. His hands were around my jaw, and I didn't understand, I wasn't in the black hole anymore. Why had that happened?

"Emily," he breathed, over and over. He sighed in relief when he saw me back. "Did it stop? Are you okay?"

I nodded, trying to breathe properly. He pulled me up and into his arms, pressing a light kiss to my neck. "I'm sorry, we have to move. Can I carry you again?"

"Oh, no need," sneered a voice from behind him.

I felt goose bumps rise on my arms, hairs standing up on end. I knew that voice. _I knew that voice. _Shit, I knew that person Dom had immobilized, and the spell had worn off. I knew that blonde hair.

It was Amy.

* * *

"You know, I don't think it's fair that I'm chained up and she's not."

"I have a good reason."

"You took my wand!"

"You attacked me!"

"I was only trying to get it back!"

I woke to those whispers, shifting a little a body. I realized I was against Al, by the feel of it. He smelled good, like soap, sweat and sea. Everything smelled like sea, actually – and I realized that's where we must've been. I felt the rocking and waves splashing against the edge of what must've been our boat. Why were we on a boat?

I didn't open my eyes, I was still too groggy. I snuggled back into his shoulder and curled myself into him. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

"Prisoners can't have wands," the other voice said. I recognized it as Amy's, despite the fact that she sounded incredibly miserable – something I wasn't used to. She was always very good at hiding it.

Why were we on a boat with Amy? Why was Al chained up?

Wait, _prisoners_?

"There was no need to take my wand and knock us out," Al grumbled.

"Shut up, you wouldn't have followed quietly," she snapped. "Besides, I didn't knock Emily out, she fainted. You were the one who freaked out and let your guard down long enough for me to take your wand."

"Are you saying I _let _myself get caught?"

"I'm saying your stupidity let yourself get caught."

"Effing Slytherins," Al muttered under his breath, and I tried not to smile. "All right, so are you saying your stupidity told you to chain me to this boat, but not Emily? She'd never join you Death Eaters."

"I know that," she said wearily.

"So you trust her." She stayed quiet. "Why are you arresting us, anyway?"

"Have to," she said shortly. "Death Eater's headquarters are in Azkaban."

_Oh._

Probably should've guessed that.

"Great, and now they're going to kill us," he said dryly. "Why not kill us now? Get it over with, you know?"

Amy paused. For some reason, this had caught her off guard. I knew the feeling, Al was pretty good at that.

"I am not a violent person," she said finally.

"You don't have to be violent to kill," Al told her. I didn't know why he was pushing this. Did he _want _to die, or what? "We're in the middle of the sea, throw us off the boat or something. Killing curse is painless, apparently. Take your pick."

"I'm not going to kill you," she said, keeping her voice reserved.

"Because you're not a violent person," he repeated. Al's chin rested on my head for a moment; I couldn't tell if he knew I was awake or not, but I don't think he did, based on what he said next. "Amy, you're dating David, right?"

"What?" she spluttered, definitely caught off guard this time. "No. _Was._"

"Did he hit you?"

I could tell he'd completely taken her by surprise. Even I wasn't really expecting it; I never thought David would hit Amy, because he never hated her. Not like he hated me. I never knew if Amy found out that David had hit me – I'd never told her. A part of me knew that she was the one who started it, and told him to hurt me.

But another part of me believed she never specified _how._

"How do you know that?" she asked, her voice carefully controlled devoid of emotion. But I knew better. I was a Slytherin too, after all. Funny how people can change.

Al shrugged, but I could feel his shoulders tense. "You were pretty adamant about not being violent. Pretty strange."

"You're lying," she said, her voice beginning to shake. "Who told you? David never told anyone –"

"No one told me," he said firmly.

"You didn't _guess_." Her breathing had become laboured, like she was panicking. "You couldn't have guessed – no." Her voice was now entirely desperate and broken. "No, he didn't – he didn't love _her_, David never cared about her, he _told _me."

I could tell the way Al tensed that this pissed him off. "Yeah, that's why did he did it, don't you think?"

"No," she said in a small voice. Her demeanour was breaking entirely, like puzzle pieces that had never quite fit together anyway. "Did he – did he really hit her?"

Al didn't answer, but seemed to be enough. She began to cry.

He sighed and pressed his lips against my hair. "Did he hit you in the beginning?"

Amy took a deep breath. "No, only after a few months. After he broke up with Emily. After he told me loved me…" She broke down, sobbing hard. Merlin, I wasn't used to her crying. She never did. Made me want to hug her, even after all we went through.

For a moment, Al was silent, letting Amy cry. She had these short, silent sort of sobs, ones were you weren't even sure if they were silent laughter or crying. But it was pretty clear, in this case. It was as though her sobs were blending with the waves, and it wasn't long before she calmed down.

"Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Em okay?" she asked in a small voice. I nearly opened my eyes at the use of my nickname. Usually it was a vicious '_Goyle'_ directed at me.

"Of course she is." He paused. "Sometimes I can tell she misses you, though. Or misses her best friend."

"I really screwed up." She sniffed loudly. "Potter, if you hit her, I swear, I will –"

"Don't finish that sentence," he snapped, so forcefully that I nearly opened my eyes. His body curved into mine, despite his wrists still chained behind him. "Just… don't."

Silence fell again. More waves crushing against the boat, small sniffling from Amy. I couldn't help remembering how David was – sweet and caring one second, and the next, it was though something ugly was releasing from inside of him.

Maybe it was his eyes that scared me the most. They were alluring, bright blue. Almost frightening. I think they may have hurt me more than his abuse. Just the way he looked at me, like I was lucky to be in his presence. When we were alone, and I would want to stop, and as he hurt me, he would look at me like I was nothing. Worthless. Like I deserved everything he was doing to me. And I couldn't imagine Amy going through that for more than two years.

But she did.

"Shit, are you awake?" Al asked in disbelief. I hadn't realized it, but I'd begun to cry. "Shit, Emily, don't cry, I didn't mean to – can you unchain me?" he asked Amy, struggling within his confines. "Please?"

"You can't escape," she said, almost fearfully. "Your wand is in London and you're in the middle of the sea –"

"I'm not going to try, I swear –"

"They'll kill me if you leave," she blurted out. Al stopped struggling, and I knew what he was thinking.

"Just one hand, then," he bargained. Next thing I knew, there was a small click and he was sliding his hand around my waist and pulling me tightly into him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear.

"It wasn't you," I said quietly, wiping my eyes. I looked around; we were in the middle of the sea, but I could see a large island in the distance. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course," I said, nodding. "It's okay. Just remembering."

"Did he really hit you?" Amy asked tentatively from behind me. I turned around; her eyes were red, and still wet. "All that time, he was hitting you?" I nodded. "And he told you he loved you? That's why he did it?"

I nodded again, unable to meet her eyes this time.

Then she was hugging me, squeezing me so tightly I could barely breathe. I put my arms around my former best friend, my heart filling with something I wasn't quite used to just yet.

Forgiveness.

"You're so lucky," she whispered, pulling away. "You're so lucky you got away from him. Even if you found a Gryffindor." Al scowled at her tone, and she chuckled. "He's not so bad, admittedly."

"You broke up with him a month ago, right?" I asked, remembering the party.

"I came to my senses a month ago," she corrected, shaking her head. "I broke up with him for the wrong reasons, but he didn't care at that point. I'm not sure he ever cared about me. Used me, I guess."

I gave her a sad smile. "You seemed pretty torn up at the party."

"Definitely got smashed," she said, snorting. "Most of us did, actually. Death Eaters our age were sent there to that party. Poor choice on their part, we hadn't been out in ages."

"Wait, they _sent_ you there?" Al interrupted, stunned. "Why?"

"For the plan," she said, as though it was obvious. "These guys had been trying to get Mr. Potter in on their plans for a while, but he wasn't responding to bribes or death threats, and he kept throwing off the Imperius curse." Al smiled at that. "So they sent David, hoping you'd go through the route, but that didn't work. That's why they sent us to the party – to spy on you guys."

"But why did you want me?" Al asked, confused.

"We needed anyone from the Potter family," she said, shrugging. "We hoped you or your siblings attended the party, so we could see your vulnerable spot. Lure you into the ministry, blackmail Mr. Potter. Simple."

"And you picked me," I realized, blushing a little. "But we've been together all summer, you couldn't just guess?"

"We all knew it used to be fake," she told me.

"So you took Emily to get me into the ministry," Al said slowly, thinking hard. "To bring us to Azkaban?"

"Here's where they failed," she said, sighing. "You were supposed to be bait, remember? We just wanted Mr. Potter to agree to the plan, but he got away."

A smile slowly spread across his face. "He did?"

"He did."

"He did," Al repeated, looking at me excitedly. "Emily, he's out."

"And we're in," I joked, and he pulled me against him and kissed me. I smiled and leaned onto his shoulder, speaking quietly into his ear so Amy wouldn't hear. "Love you."

He kissed me again. Amy snorted.

"So are they going to kill us?" Al asked casually, wrapping an arm around me.

"Most likely."

"So that's a yes."

"That's a _mostly likely_." I looked behind Amy; we were approaching the island, the tall prison stirring a horribly familiar feeling of dread in my gut – and we weren't visiting this time. Al laced his fingers through mine.

"Listen, guys," Amy said suddenly, leaning forward. She looked frightened, but determined. "If all goes according to plan, you won't even see them."

"See them?" I asked.

"Well, I'll take you to a cell," she explained, whispering now. "Check you in. But they're still dealing with the guards who let Mr. Potter get away, so I'll have some time to get the plan in motion."

"Aren't you a guard?" I asked.

"No, I was checking up on them."

"What's your plan?" Al demanded urgently. "I thought you were a Death Eater, what are you doing?"

"I _was_," she said bitterly, "before I realized what they really wanted. I thought it was all about creating a better society for purebloods, but it was never about that. Not really."

"What do they want?"

She exhaled loudly. "I warn you, they're not exactly the brightest. They needed Mr. Potter because they thought he'd be able to convince everyone to follow their idea of a 'perfect society'. But Mr. Potter saw through it, and that's when I finally did. They just want purebloods to take over."

"But hardly anyone is pureblood anymore," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not either, even if I'm in Slytherin."

"They just like high society ideals," she clarified, glancing behind her. We were close to the island now. The waves seemed to speed up the boat.

"So you _are_ trying to take them down." Amy neither confirmed nor denied this, and Al let out a disgruntled breath. "Can't we help?"

"No, we have a plan."

"_We_? Who are you working with?"

"Minister's daughter. Birch."

My jaw dropped. _Of all people._

"_Holly_?" Al choked out. "You're joking."

"Nope." We had approached the island, near an ordinary-looking dock. "If everything goes accordingly, you two will be out in about half an hour. And you don't need to take the boat to get back."

"But –"

"Shut up, don't talk about this in front of them," she hissed as the boat steered itself towards to wooden dock. There were tall, burly men by the entrance of the tall prison. Amy unchained Al and grabbed us both by the arms, nails digging into my skin.

She led us through the prison, nodding to the guards on her way in. Her shoes clacked on the stone floor, leading us through long, winding hallways and stairs. The place was the same as it was when my mum and I had visited my dad: dark, damp and slightly eerie.

"Amy," I began, but she shushed me.

"Not here," she hissed as she opened yet another door. "This place is pretty far from headquarters, so it may buy you some more time. We just need fifteen more minutes."

"For what?"

"I can't tell you," she said, opening another door. This one was a row of jail cells – small, dark cubicles with only a tiny, barred window in each of them. Each had a simple bed, a sink and toilet. That was it. She shoved us in the first one on the left and closed the door, lowering her voice even more. "I'm leaving this unlocked, but don't try to sneak until it's time."

"Time for what?" Al asked uncertainly.

"You'll see," she reassured us. "You can't miss it. Just keep this door closed in case a guard comes by. And Dementors, they can never tell, but you probably won't be in here long enough to see them anyway." A shiver ran down my spine as she went over to the cupboard in the entrance, taking out two prison uniforms and throwing it to us. "Change, you'll be warmer."

"Wait!"

Amy stilled, door open, ready to leave. "Yeah?"

"We can help," I said desperately, gripping the bars. "Really, just tell us what to do."

She shook her head. "Just… stay alive, okay?"

And with that, she was gone.

* * *

I didn't know how long Al and I had stood in silence, in a _cell in Azkaban_, staring at the door Amy just went through. It was so quiet and eerie, like a scene in a novel, and it just felt too unreal.

"Emily?" Al said quietly, breaking the silence.

I took a deep breath. "Yeah?"

"Should we trust her?"

"I…" I trailed off, looking down at the uniform. Black and white stripes. It really was unreal. "I don't know."

"She left the door unlocked."

"Yeah."

"We could leave."

"But I'm guessing it would mess up her plan."

"For their side, or ours?" he asked worriedly. I turned to wrap my arms around him, and he sighed. "I think we should go along with this for a bit. Stay. We don't even know any way to get out, and this place is lurking with Death Eaters."

"The people who Mr. Birch arrested are still here, aren't they?"

"Never heard of anyone releasing them," he said sadly, kissing my forehead. "C'mon, you should change. You're just wearing pyjamas."

"_Your _pyjamas."

He smirked at me, and I whacked his shoulder lightly.

We quickly slipped the uniforms on over our clothes, nerves growing in my stomach, knotting and turning over. Fifteen minutes. Maybe. We didn't know how long Amy's plan was going to take – whatever it was. And in the meantime, we were waiting on these Death Eaters who wanted to kill us.

We were just having the times of our lives, really.

Al sat on the bed and pulled me beside him. "We'll get out of this, Em. We will."

"I hope so," I said, resting my head on his shoulder. I felt like I was shrinking into myself. "I never thought David would've hurt her like that."

"Sick bastard." He paused. "I wonder what happened to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he dissolved into thin air," he said, shrugging. "Right after he told us how to get into the ministry. It was strange."

"Hopefully we don't run into him." I glanced out of the cell, into the empty corridor. "Do you think her plan is really going to work? It has to be pretty complicated to infiltrate Azkaban, don't you think?"

"I guess so." He fidgeted. "She's working with Holly. I can't believe it."

I stared at him, frowning, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Al, you know we're going to have to talk about her sooner or later."

"No, it's all right."

"It's not an _option._"

"Actually, I'd say it is."

"Not after what you told me, it's pretty obvious that you –"

"I do _not_ still have feelings for her," he said sharply, and I faltered.

"I was going to say that you still feel guilty," I said quietly, looking away.

Al cursed under his breath.

"It's just that she was one of James' patients," he admitted in a small voice. "I mean, she definitely needed therapy. But I never expected that they'd actually fall for each other."

My eyes snapped back to him, jaw dropping. "Holly and _James_?"

"Yep."

"And you're…" I tried to swallow my feelings. "Jealous?"

"No, no." He gave me a small smile and put his arm around me. "I'm just weirded out, I suppose. I've been thinking that I should talk to her and work things out, once and for all, since James really seems to like her."

"So you _are_ jealous," I concluded.

"_No_," he insisted irritably, turning towards me. I twisted away from him, obviously resentful. Maybe a bit jealous, even though deep down, I knew I had no reason to be. But I wasn't about to admit that. Al ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "C'mon, Emily, I lo –"

I was pretty sure I knew what he was about to say. Ninety-nine percent sure.

But the earth was suddenly shaking, a deep rumbling drumming the grounds around us, drowning out his words. Then there was a huge _bang_, like an eruption, and Al and I clutched each other as everything blurred around us, trembling too hard for us to see.

Was Azkaban _exploding?_

I struggled in Al's grip, trying to run – _this is why Amy left the door unlocked_ – but he wouldn't move, The walls were breaking around us, the ceiling shattering into pieces and falling like rain. I screamed and closed my eyes. I couldn't help it. The mouldy bricks were tumbling down and smashed into sharp, jagged pieces.

I fell to the floor from the force of the quaking, and Al fell on top of me, clenching me tightly. Then I realized he was crouching over me, holding my arms to my sides so I wouldn't move.

He was protecting me.

"Al!" I yelled, suddenly terrified. Like I knew what was going to happen before it did. I felt him collapse against me as something hit him.

Al groaned in pain, a horrible, agonizing moan. His forehead slumped into my neck, sending fear through me as he began to pant, and I began to panic. I struggled against his fingers but they were firm.

Until the rumbling slowed and stopped, leaving ruins around us.

Al buckled beside me, face down onto the floor, shaking and shuddering. I scrambled out from underneath him – then I saw it. A cut down his back from one of the crumbling bricks, jagged and dirty and bloody.

"No," I whispered, pressing behind him, trying to stop the bleeding. "No, please..."

"It's okay, Emily -" He cut off with another loud groan, breathing harder. He was lying, it wasn't okay, I could see the pain in his eyes.

I moved away from him, my front covered in his blood. But he was still bleeding. I pressed my hands to his wound uselessly, beginning to cry. "No, no, _no_- dammit, stop bleeding, stop!"

"We need to get out of here," Al breathed. The rumbling had begun again, but farther away. He sat up on his knees, still hunched over, and turned around. I hastily wiped my hands on my pants.

"How?" I whispered, mind still on his back.

"You need to help me," he said breathlessly, grasping my hands. Tears of pain rolled down his cheeks. "Emily, please, help me."

"I don't know how!" I cried. So much blood, too much, it was all I could see. "Al, what do I do?"

"Find a wand," he said, swallowing thickly. "From a guard. Take it. Apparate us to St. Mungo's."

"But you're bleeding," I protested, voice breaking.

"Emily -"

"I can't leave you here!" I was shouting, but I didn't know why. I turned around. "Hold on, okay?"

"You can't carry me," he said weakly.

"So I'll drag you," I told him, wiping my eyes. "Hold onto me. I'm not leaving you here."

He was too hurt to argue. I moved underneath him and he grasped my shoulders. I didn't manage to lift him, but I dragged him out of the jail cell area, near an office where the guards usually were.

The place was deserted.

"Al, there's no one here," I whispered, trying to keep the tears back. Only a single desk remained.

"Is there a wand around?" he asked.

He slipped off of my back and onto the desk chair as I yanked the drawers open, searching through parchment and keys and quills and badges.

But no wand.

Suddenly, the rumbling had started again, right above us. Al didn't hesitate to latch onto my shoulders and I dragged us away, trying to run as fast as I could out of the office.

The building crumbled behind us as soon as we got out, but I didn't stop moving. I needed to find someone, someone who could help Al, who could help us get out. We took a boat to get here, but we didn't have that time.

"Where are we going?" Al mumbled tiredly.

"I don't know." I took a deep breath, willing myself not to cry. "Do you think there's magic to keep us from apparating out?"

"No, the guards don't take the boat back – what's that?"

There were cries in the distance, from a seemingly deserted place. And then it hit me that the other prisoners may have gone to the courtyard in the middle of Azkaban. The guards could have gone there. Maybe there was someone good. They could help.

Feeling a burst of hope and energy. I set off towards the courtyard as fast as I could. Al was quiet, but breathing steadily in my ear. His way of telling me he was alive.

But he was losing so much blood.

The voices got louder and louder as we got closer to the courtyard. People were shouting, roaring, and I couldn't figure out why, but it became clear as I caught a glimpse of the courtyard.

They were fighting. Remains of the walls and chains were weapons against wands of the guards. Bodies were everywhere, and I couldn't tell if they were good or bad. Azkaban was full of both.

"Fuck," Al moaned, jerking my horrified thoughts back to him. "Em, we can't go in there."

"But you need help," I said desperately.

"Go over in the hole in that broken wall," he whispered. I saw what he meant; just before the courtyard, there was a small place where the walls had blasted, but it was accessible and hidden. A little hole in the wall, like a cave.

I dragged us over there, not stopping until we were well inside the hole, and hidden beside the opening. I sat him down and immediately turned to his back, ripping his bloody uniform open so I could see it.

"Emily, you need to find a wand," he gasped. "Be careful and don't get hit."

"They're fighting, they're not going to help us," I whispered helplessly. Al turned around and grasped my jaw with both hands.

"You have to stay hidden, somehow," he whispered urgently. "Don't get caught, stay along the edges. Check dead bodies."

My expression broke. "Al, I can't do that."

"It's the safest way." He clenched his eyes shut, gasping in pain. "Please, Emily, hurry."

I nodded and he kissed my forehead. Once I made sure he was concealed in the hole and he wasn't going to leave, I crept out.

The battle was raging on, more bloody than any wizard war. Killing curses were deflecting off the walls, jagged pieces of rocks being thrown everywhere. Men and women were shouting for freedom and justice, and couldn't be contained by the guard's magic. I saw children hiding in corners and holes in the walls, like Al and I had found.

I realized we had a lot in common. Al and I were still kids, even if we were of age, and we didn't belong there anymore than the other children did. We were pawns in a dead minister's battle. We were thrown in prison without reasons. That's why this battle was happening.

Suddenly, the new death eaters were arriving, flying in, apparating in out of thin air, and more spells were flying. More bodies were hitting the ground. It was chaos.

I realized what was happening – a war. What the minister was trying to prevent in the first place. But it wasn't purebloods versus everyone else, it was innocent death eaters who'd moved on from the past, versus the new ones who'd kept it alive. And the good people, like Mr. Potter, didn't belong after all.

This was a battle in between one race.

A race doesn't make you who you are.

I was frozen, standing on the outskirts, afraid to enter. I knew these people. The ones that had just apparated in were friends of my father's, my grandfather's – those men who grumbled and drank in the corner at parties. Rookwood. Jugson. Mulciber. David's father. Selwyn. Rowle. Travers. Macnair. Yaxley. A werewolf that had always scared me, named Greyback. And all their offspring, fearfully fighting alongside of them.

But I knew the people who had just escaped from their cells – everyone Mr. Birch had arrested. Everyone he had never needed to worry about were fighting against the new and old Death Eaters.

I tore my gaze from the devastating battle in front of me, glancing back where Al was. I was one of the people who unfairly treated. I was one of the innocent death eater families who hated the new death eaters. I wanted to fight this battle.

And I rightfully could. This was my battle.

But I still had to pick them.

"Wand, wand, wand," I mumbled to myself, reminding myself. I slipped into the courtyard, crouching on the outskirts, just as Al had advised me to. He was bleeding – _don't think about that – _and I couldn't fight. Not with him like that.

But Merlin, I wanted to.

I crawled among dead bodies, blinking tears out of my eyes. Some of these people didn't look any older than I did. I saw a flash of green light and ducked instinctively, dropping face-down to the ground.

"Did you get her?" a male voice asked. I heard his footsteps near closer, and I shut my eyes, not moving a muscle.

"Think so," another man's voice answered. I let out a grunt of surprise, drowned in the noise of the battlefield, as a boot kicked me in the side, hard, flipping me over on my back. "Fuck, that's a lot of blood, she was dying anyway."

"Thought I recognized her. Goyle's daughter. Blood traitor."

"I know her," said a third voice, a horribly familiar voice that I recognized. "Dated this bitch in fifth year. Prude."

"Put her in her place, did you Nott?"

"Of course." I didn't dare to breathe, trying to keep my anger from boiling over. I was sure it was David who kicked me this time, aiming for my ribs, like he always did. "C'mon, she's gone."

I could feel rain beginning to drop down against my face as they left. I felt paralyzed, like I wanted to lie there forever. I was tired of being tortured and ridiculed. I didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to think anymore.

_Al._

I opened my eyes cautiously. Thankfully, David and the other two men seemed to have disappeared. Using that tiny burst of energy, I crawled around some more, ignoring my aching ribs, searching for a wand. Taking a deep breath, I approached a girl my age, her dark auburn hair sprawled out on the ground, entirely motionless. Her wand was sticking out of her belt.

Shakily, I slid it out.

It was like a miracle had appeared in the middle of this chaos.

I crawled out of the courtyard and hurried back to the cave, to Al, but what I saw made me skid to a stop. He was lying down at this point, unable to keep himself up, jaw clenched tightly to keep from screaming out. The part of his uniform I'd ripped open revealed his entire back. Bloody. Bleeding as though he'd never stop.

He was dying.

Fuck, he was _dying_.

"Al," I whispered helplessly, falling beside him. I ripped the arm of my uniform out, using it to hold it in, wipe the wound, but it was no use - it was soaking in only a matter of seconds. I raised the wand and siphoned off some of the blood, but I couldn't do more. This wasn't my wand.

I couldn't do anything. I took too long. He was really dying.

"Emily," he breathed, voice strained. "Emily, you found a wand?"

"Yes," I said shakily. The wand dropped to the ground as he lifted himself on his knees to face me. I took his hands, helping him. "You've lost a lot of blood."

"I'm... really dizzy," he confirmed. His face was wet and sweaty and screwed up in so much pain. "We need to get to St. Mungo's."

"I can't apparate you there," I said, clenching my eyes shut in some vain attempt to stop the tears. "This isn't my wand, I might splinch you."

He squeezed my hands tightly. "You can do it, Emily. I know you can."

I shook my head, sobbing now. He was dying, why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't he understand why I was so scared? I was going to make it worse - I was going to kill him.

"Please, Em." He was begging as he held my hands to his lips. "Please, you have to try."

I took a deep breath and swallowed back tears. I tried to concentrate on St. Mungo's - I'd been there so many times - but the blood kept blurring my vision. I held the wand in one hand, Al's hand in the other, and spun around.

Nothing. Not splinched, but we hadn't moved. I tried again.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

"I can't do it," I whispered, dropping in front of him. "I can't do it, you're dying."

"I'm not dying," he croaked.

"Don't die," I choked out. My forehead fell onto his. I couldn't stop trembling and crying and everything was spinning – _not him, please not him._I clutched onto Al, as if he would go if I let go. "Please, don't die."

"I'm not going to die."

"Al -"

"I'm not going to die," he repeated gently, tipping my chin up. He kissed me lightly. "I'm not finished loving you yet."

I collapsed into his touch, eyes shut tightly.

He told me he loved me. Because he needed to, before he died.

"Focus, Em, focus," he whispered urgently. "I'm not going to die if you get me there. You know that. You have to concentrate."

"What if I splinch you?" I asked fearfully.

He kissed me again. "I forgive you if you do."

I took another deep breath and nodded. This time, I closed my eyes, visualizing the hospital with all my might. Not caring about the wand. Forgetting the battle outside. Just Al, in the hospital and alive.

_Crack._


	46. Emily: The Hero

**Chapter Forty-Six: Emily: The Hero**

Everything was dark again.

I broke out into a sweat, beginning to panic; it couldn't have been a dream. I was out of that room, wherever it was, _whatever _it was, I was out of the ministry, I was, Al and Scorpius and James and Adam and Dom were all there, and we found Mr. Potter, we got out, we _did._ My breathing came out short as I began to blink rapidly, but there was nothing but darkness, like the walls were closing in around me even though I couldn't see them –

OKAY WHAT IS THAT INSANE BEEPING?

Light suddenly flooded my vision, and I clenched my eyes shut, as though I'd been burned. In my eyes. I heard footsteps running towards me, then warm hands taking mine and pulling me up. I slowly opened one eye. Then the other.

I wasn't in the black hole. There were curtains around me – light blue ones. I was on a white single bed, odd wires attached to me, the beeping coming from some monitor that clearly picked up on my mini panic attack. I looked up at the person who'd helped me up – a middle-aged lady, olive-skinned, donning scrubs. A nurse.

"Where am I?" I asked weakly, my voice cracking.

"St. Mungo's."

"Where's Al?" I said frantically, fear gripping me as I whipped my head around. "Is he okay? Did I splinch him? He –"

"You splinched yourself, dear," she said patiently. She reached over to a table beside me and plucked up a paper cup. "Mr. Potter will be just fine. You managed to get him here right on time."

I could barely breathe, hardly believing it. I clenched the sheets around me. "Really? He's alive?"

"Yes." She patted my arm. "He's in critical condition. There was some curse in his wound we couldn't quite identify, but it was dark magic."

My throat was too dry to swallow. "He got cut by some falling bricks in Azkaban."

"That would explain it," she said, tapping her wand against the cup and filling it with water. She handed it to me. "The curse put up a fight, but your father managed to banish it."

I slowly took a sip of water. My hands were shaking.

She must've read the question in my eyes, because she shook her head. "No, you can't see Mr. Potter. Not yet. He's been asleep for two days, just as you have."

I couldn't believe my ears. "_Two days_?"

"Two days," she confirmed, nodding. "You had some form of the Crutiatus Curse on you. It tortured you at random times, didn't it?"

I nodded numbly.

"It's gone," she reassured me, patting my arm again. "You splinched your leg a bit, and your ribs were cracked. Also a little malnourished and dehydrated. Everything's fine now."

"What about everyone else?" I blurted out. I knew I felt relatively fine, besides intense fear squeezing me to death. "What about Mr. Potter? Is he all right?"

"He's recovering well, yes."

"And what about the war?" I asked worriedly. "Is it still going on?"

"It's all over," she said soothingly, taking my cup and pushing me back down onto the bed. "The war is over and everyone's okay. You need some rest."

"But –"

"Sleep," she insisted. She loosened the wires from the stickies on my skin before extinguishing the lights. Letting me sleep peacefully.

If only that was an option.

* * *

Believe it or not, after sleeping for two days straight, you don't really feel all that tired. I lay in bed, gritting my teeth, tossing and turning and wishing I was an effing Gryffindor so I could find some courage and peek into the other stalls and look for Al. But I was afraid of what I would find.

So I waited.

Oh Merlin, the _wait_.

It was the worst part of all this. Scratch that, actually; the worst part was Al losing so much blood and nearly dying on me, but the wait came pretty close. I knew he was going to be okay – don't get me wrong, I wasn't stupid – but it was still torture. It was the dread of the inevitable, to see how bad the damage really was, and there I was, stuck in a bed.

I guess the bright side in all this that Al's spells on my necklace really did work, and the healers hadn't discovered my bruises. Though I wasn't really sure it was a bright side, since I wanted them gone – but it was better that they didn't know, and didn't inform my parents.

I didn't know how long it was before natural sunlight started streaming in the room, and I sighed with relief. Soon after, the nurse was back with a tray of breakfast, telling me I was free to leave when I was ready. My parents came in soon after that, in their rumpled scrubs and teary faces.

But even they wouldn't tell me where Al was.

Despite their protests, I wouldn't go home. I resolved to stay in the waiting room, where the rest of the Potter family had gathered. Surprisingly, the first person who found me as I got out of the room was Rose.

"You're okay!" she whisper-squealed, throwing her arms around me. I nearly fell over if it weren't for her gripping me so tightly. "Merlin, Emily, you scared me so much, this can't be good for the pregnancy –"

"Let her breathe, Rose," Scorpius joked from behind her, grinning at me. But as soon as she let me go, he engulfed me in a hug, squeezing me tighter. "You took your time waking up."

"Miss me?" I joked, and a flash of pain streaked across his features. "Too soon?"

"You worried us so much," Rose said as Scorpius released me. "And then when we heard what happened in Azkaban – you realize you arrived at St. Mungo's with Al's bloody body and splinched, right?"

"I don't really remember arriving," I said honestly, shrugging. I glanced back at the other stalls in the room. "Have you seen Al?"

Rose's face fell slightly. "No. But he's not here. He's on the fourth floor somewhere, but they put him in critical care."

"But he's fine," Scorpius added hastily upon seeing the look on my face. "Really, Em. He's going to need some time to recover, but he got really lucky."

I think Rose could tell how I was feeling, because she leaned in to hug me again. "No one's seen him yet. You should come back to the waiting room, Aunt Ginny, James and Lily want to see you."

"They haven't left, because they're waiting for Al to wake up," Scorpius explained. "I'm sure they would've visited you otherwise. But they're practically glued to their seats at this point."

"I understand…" I said, trailing off, thinking. And I did understand. I didn't want to see his parents' reactions, because wasn't it my fault he got into this mess? He married me to save me. I was the one who went and got myself captured, and he saved me again. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't have nearly died.

I just felt as though he had come so close to death, and I had come far too close to losing him. I'd panicked. I should've performed the spells I knew, the ones I'd read in textbooks and learned at work but I didn't. I understood why Healers never performed on their own family. My mind went blank.

I wanted to talk to him more than anything. He had done so much for me, period. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and love him and tell him how much he meant to me. I wanted to apologize for getting him into this and somehow show him how thankful I was for him – how I literally felt like the luckiest person in the world.

"I think I'm going to go to the bathroom," I said suddenly – maybe a bit too loudly. They seemed almost startled, and I lowered my voice. "I mean – I'll meet you in the waiting room, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Scorp asked.

"Yes, of course, I'm fine," I said nonchalantly, dismissing the worry with a wave of my hand. "Just have to empty my bladder. Haven't done that in a while, you know."

I turned a little red as the corners of their mouths twitched.

"Yeah, all right," Rose agreed, turning to hobble on back to the waiting room. Scorpius gave me an amused look before catching up with her. He knew what I was doing. He always knew.

Now, where was Al?

* * *

Considering the fact that both my parents had medical professions and worked in the hospital, as well as my internship I'd done for half the summer, I could safely say that I knew the ins and outs to St. Mungo's pretty well. But I'd never seen patients in critical care before.

I walked around the hallways nervously, clutching the sides of my old pyjamas my parents had brought for me. Healers gave me odd looks as I passed, but no one stopped me as I hurried past them, checking signs as I passed by them. It wasn't until I heard a loud voice coming from one of the rooms that I stopped dead in my tracks.

"This place is _such_ a bore. The food is disgusting! I refuse to sleep anymore!"

"Maybe if you shut up, you wouldn't be bored by the sound of your own voice!"

"I _want_ to watch my cartoons."

"_I _want to knock you unconscious."

"Fuck off!"

I tentatively peeked into the room. It was one very much like mine, except only with four stalls. I saw the boy that had been complaining – couldn't have been older than ten years old – in the stall in front of Al's. I slowly slid my eyes over to Al, nervously, because the last time I'd seen him he'd been dying.

I sighed in relief.

He'd grumpily slumped into his pillows, arms crossed against his chest and muttering to himself. That was a sign of healing, right? I greedily watched Al, still a little pale, his movements slow and jerky and still exhausted, but awake, not bleeding and definitely alive. I was waiting again, but this time, it was okay. _He _was okay. But if he was awake, where was his family?

"Can I leave now?" Al moaned to the nurse in the room.

She rolled her eyes. Knowing Al, he must've asked until she wanted to _kick_ him out. "What's your pain level?"

"I could just heal at home, if all I need to do is sleep and keep my back straight."

"Mr. Potter."

"Seriously. My mum won't leave the room. Or my dad, and he can't really move anyway."

"Mr. Potter."

"My girlfriend's parents are _both_ healers. And she's studying to be one, too."

"I'm sure she'd take great care of you," she said dryly. I sniggered.

She walked over to Al's bed and pointed at the chart on the wall. Pain level one was indicated with a happy face, and the faces slowly grew worse as the numbers increased. The last one was in tears. Charming. "Pain?"

He groaned again. "I dunno. Six or seven?"

"Then you're staying here," she dismissed immediately, surveying him. "Once the level is around three, you can have visitors."

"But it only hurts when I move."

"Exactly why you can't have visitors." She pulled the pillow a little higher, making sure it was just his head on top of it. "Lie _flat._"

"I _am_ lying flat," he snapped.

"Your spine should be –"

"Straight, I know, I know," he grumbled, cursing under his breath as he wiggled flat on the bed. "Can I please sit up for a little bit so I can read?"

"Yes, all right," she conceded, "but let me help – Mr. Potter, you can't complain about the pain if you move like this!"

Al had moved his pillow and used his elbows to shift himself to the top half of his bed. Apparently, even this movement was too much for him; his arms collapsed as he cried out in pain, clenching his eyes shut and lying flat on the bed again.

"I'm okay," he said breathlessly. He opened his eyes and moved his pillow back underneath his head before managing to smile at the elderly nurse. "See? I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes and used her wand to re-adjust the bed so that the top half raised, keeping Al's back flat on the bed, but now sitting up. Al reached for a book the bedside table, but she quickly snatched it to give it to him before he could move again.

"Don't move," she snapped at him, handing him the book. I tried to keep from smiling, but I didn't blame her; she must've been tired of this routine by now. She stepped out and drew the curtains shut around him before walking out. I barely had time to react before realizing she was heading towards me.

My eyes widened and my head shot back behind the wall again, but it was too late; she'd probably known I was there the entire time. She stopped in front of me, arms crossed in front of her, just giving me a stern look.

I swallowed hard, but didn't break eye contact.

"Probably the worst way to get an injured patient to the hospital is through apparating," she said after a few moments.

I was caught off guard. "Yeah – yeah, I know, but –"

"It's preferred, because it's fastest," she finished for me, still giving me that same, protective look.

"I didn't really have a choice."

"That's also usually the case." She sighed and glanced back into the room. "So you're the girlfriend who's going to take care of him?"

"Apparently," I said, unable to keep the smile from spreading on my face. "Can I see him?"

"Only if you convince him to stop moving," she said, frustration evident in her voice. "Think you could do that for me?"

"He doesn't really listen to me, either."

"Do your best, dear," she said, nodding at me before leaving. I nervously swallowed again before stepping inside the room.

There were only two patients out of the four available beds – Al, and the little boy. The whining boy had been distracted momentarily by some sort of hand-held game; through a tiny gap in the curtains, I could see him muttering to the screen as he rapidly clicked buttons. I turned to Al's bed, which was next to a window, curtains drawn shut around him.

I felt inexplicably nervous about the whole ideal. I almost wanted to run away. I was used to running away. I didn't know if things were going to be awkward with him, or if he would still love me after I was considerably less _interesting_, because now there was no one to save.

I wasn't sure if I could call myself out on this yet, since I hadn't seen him, but I had a feeling it was all bullshit. There was another (admittedly larger) part of me that just wanted to shove the curtains back and throw my arms around him and never let go. And I had a feeling he felt the same.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pyjamas and quickly slipped through the slit in the curtains. Al looked momentarily confused when he saw me – but then gave me the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

"Emily," he greeted happily, closing his book. "They let you out?"

"Ye –" My voice caught in my throat, so I cleared it. I sat on the end of his bed and looked down at my hands. "Yeah. I feel completely fine."

"Good." His smile was bleeding into his voice. "What the hell are you doing all the way over there?"

Bloody hell, why was I so nervous?

I glanced at him and blushed from his gaze. I quickly looked back down. "I dunno. I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me," he assured, scooting closer. I involuntarily winced when he hissed a little, but he quickly recovered and reached out to take my hands. "Really. I don't think the person who saved my life could hurt me."

I chuckled and slipped my fingers through his. "Liar."

"Am not."

"You saved my life first. Twice."

"I never did what you did for me," he said quietly, tugging at my hand. I think he was annoyed that I wasn't looking at him. "I never dragged you around Azkaban and then apparated you all the way to London, despite your broken ribs and that curse and having been starved for two days –"

He stopped abruptly and peered at me. "Are you _crying_?"

"No," I said hurriedly, cursing my tears. "No, of course not."

"You're crying," he teased.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Shut up and get your arse over here," he told me, taking me by surprise when he pulled me close to him. He didn't seem to be in pain as he leaned down to kiss my wet cheeks. "Why are you crying? We got out. You should be happy."

"I am," I replied, shrugging.

"And you're all healed."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Could you just tell me what's wrong?" he asked softly, cupping my face. "Please?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and avoided his gaze. "I thought you were going to die."

He snorted. "Well, I clearly didn't."

My eyes snapped up.

"How did I know that?" I demanded, blinking through my tears. "Do you know what it was like? You were losing so much blood and you were pale and I could barely carry you and you were going to pass out and –"

Al pulled me against my chest, rocking me back and forth.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing the crown of my head. "I give you full permission to beat the shit out of me."

"Serves you right," I mumbled. I gripped him tighter, trying not to hurt him. "I thought I almost lost you."

"I know the feeling," he said into my hair. I didn't know how he felt when I'd been captured, but if the way he was suddenly holding me even closer was any indication, he'd probably been as scared as I was.

"Do you remember our honeymoon?" I asked.

"Seems so long ago."

"You know all those nightmares I had?" He hummed in affirmation. "What happened was sort of what I dreamed." I was mumbling my confession into his hospital gown. "I dreamed that you had stepped in front of something for me. To save me."

"Oh." His voice was thoughtful. His fingers traced the back of my neck. "You know me too well."

"It's not fair," I told him. "It's not fair that you had to make all those sacrifices for me. It's not fair that you married me short-term, and then you got stuck with that bond, and now you got hurt so badly –"

"Em –"

"It's my fault," I said, trying not to cry again. "I'm so sorry."

"It's _not_ your fault," he insisted, pushing me back and kissing my forehead. "Merlin, how could you say that? I practically volunteered for all of it."

"But you –"

"You know me," he said, wiping my cheeks with his palms. "Emily, you _know_ me. It's not in my nature to just stand back and let things happen when I know I could do something about it. Remember when my mum didn't let me help out when my dad was taken? It drove my insane."

"But it's not fair that you almost died because of me."

"Maybe not." He kissed my forehead again. "But I'd do it again."

"Don't you _dare_."

He laughed.

I reached around him, carefully slipping my fingers to the back of his neck. "Does this hurt?"

"Not at all," he said, glancing down at my lips.

I bit my lip, trying to tease him a little as I traced the back of his neck. I toyed with the strings of his hospital gown, suddenly remembering the design left his back bare. Where his wound was. My fingers halted at a little bump on the top of his back.

Al was still staring at my lips. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." I slid my hands off of him. "Can I see?"

He nodded – probably a little disappointed I wasn't kissing him – and I crawled around to see his back. It was bare from the opening of the hospital gown, and I could see the patched scars from where the jagged rock had torn his skin so roughly. I ran one finger down the middle of his back, tracing the scar. To my surprise, he squirmed.

"Stop," he said, chuckling. "That tickles."

"It doesn't hurt?" I asked.

"Not if you touch it. Only if I move."

"Right," I said softly, feeling the scar again. Not really comprehending what I was doing, I leaned in and pressed my lips to the top of the scar. Like he'd done for me. I heard his breath hitch as I ran my lips a little lower, kissing him again.

"Em," he whispered, nearly breathless. Then I was realizing how intimate this actually was, and I blushed.

He turned around and kissed me, seemingly not feeling (or noticing) any pain. His gown fell off of his back and hung around his arms, and I pulled away to tug it off. Al looked like he was trying very hard not to smirk.

"It was in the way," I said defensively, crossing my arms against my chest. "I know it's a hospital thing, but it just looks silly, and technically they're not operating anymore so you don't _need _to wear –"

I was cut off when he leaned forwards, reaching for me – then suddenly realized how much that actually hurt him. He lost his balanced and fell on top of me, trapping me against the bed. It felt very familiar – but we weren't in Azkaban. We were going to be okay.

I laughed as he tried to adjust his weight so he wasn't squishing me, but failed. He seemed to take offence as he pushed his forehead against mine.

"A little help?" he asked, annoyed.

"I happen to like this position."

"I'm squishing you."

"Not much. I don't mind." I kissed him before he could protest, and he relaxed against me. It was slow and deep and adoring and I didn't want to stop. Ever. It was Al who pulled away first, stroking my cheek softly.

"I knew girls liked scars," he mumbled, and I snorted.

"Shut up and kiss me," I said impatiently, pulling him back against me.

(I think he took that to heart.)

* * *

"Mr. Potter, please refrain from fornicating with your girlfriend in the hospital beds."

Al made an impatient noise before lifting his lips from mine. "She's my wife."

"We do not appreciate nudity for non-medical reasons in this facility."

"All right, keep your hairnet on," Al muttered irritably, still hovering above me and ignoring the nurse as she shut the curtains again. He went back to kissing me fervently.

"Am I your wife now?" I teased, smiling against his lips.

"Sounds better than trying to shag your girlfriend in a hospital bed." He nibbled on my lower lip for a moment. "Especially when she's not ready for it, anyway."

That stung. I frowned and gently pushed him off of me. "You're really a jerk sometimes, you know that?"

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."

"No, I don't know that," I said, taking his hospital gown and helping him put it back on. "I don't think we quite finished that conversation."

"That wasn't _my_ fault," he pointed out as I crawled back out in front of him. He suddenly looked tired again, trying to scoot back so he could lie flat onto the raised part of the bed. "I'm sure things would've gone a lot better if you hadn't left."

My stomach dropped guiltily. "I apologized for that."

"And I forgave you." He pulled me closer so I was lying beside him. "Look, Em, we have to talk this out at some point."

I sighed and rolled onto my side so I could face him. "Yeah, I guess we should."

I waited, but he didn't say anything. He just kept staring at me – maybe he was waiting for me? I didn't know. Nerves had suddenly coiled and squeezed in my stomach; I was guilty. Because he'd pretty much poured his heart out, and I'd walked away.

In my defense, having my secret revealed, Al giving me possibly the best present in the world and then telling me how he was basically the reason for Holly's mental health – that's a lot to take in. I didn't mean to completely walk out, but I just… I felt suffocated. I just needed to get away for a bit.

And of course, I didn't get a chance to go back.

But I _would_ have! Stupid Death Eaters.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out much too loudly. I lowered my voice hastily and shifted forward before continuing, looking straight into Al's eyes. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to leave. I swear. I just needed to think, and then I really couldn't breathe and just needed some time alone –"

"I _told_ you, I forgave you," he cut in patiently. "It's not as though I didn't do the same thing in Rome, remember?"

"It was just a lot at once." I closed my eyes as he brushed my fringe out from my eyes. "And it's not that I don't want to help you through this stuff. I'm just scared."

"Of what?"

"I don't know." For some reason, I was okay with opening up to him like this. I didn't have any secrets from him anymore. "Of a lot of things. I know love is scary. But I know I love you."

He smiled at this.

"It's just that this thing…" I trailed off and shifted closer to him, putting my head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me, hand going to my hip. "This thing with Holly… it bothers me." I was afraid to open my eyes and see his expression.

When he spoke, his voice sounded pained. "What bothers you?"

"I'm not really sure." I thought for a moment. "There have been a lot of things bothering me since you told me. I mean, the whole virgin thing bothered me, but you said you'd wait, so… that's okay."

"Good," he said quickly. "I meant that. Really. Earlier – I didn't mean anything by it, I swear –"

"I know, I know." I kissed his shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay."

I opened my eyes to look at him. "I've always said to myself that I wanted to wait until marriage, but I mean… I think that's just a confirmation. Because I'm married now, and I'm still not ready, right?"

He nodded.

"I think that marriage normally tells someone that the relationship isn't based on the physical aspect," I whispered. "Not that it doesn't exist, just that it's not the only thing in the relationship. And just for me, personally… that's why I wanted to wait. Just to make sure it's not purely physical."

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So… you don't want to do it because you're scared I'm not in love with you?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not worried about that at all."

"You're worried that it's all about sex?"

"No, that's not it."

"Then why are you waiting?"

"I don't know." I thought for a moment. "I just feel like so many people I've trusted have screwed me over. You included." He grinned sheepishly – but I think we were even from this whole running-away-from-each-other. "I guess I just want to take things a bit slower. But soon. I promise."

He laughed. "Emily, you know I'll wait for you. You think too much, you know that?"

I laughed. "Speaking of thinking too much…"

"Uh oh."

"The thing you told me last Saturday…" I trailed off, thinking. "It's been pretty obvious to me since I met you that you like helping people. And I get how much it upset you to think that you hurt someone instead of being able to help them."

He didn't say anything.

"As weird as it sounds, I think I understand why you told me to get over you," I said. He squirmed. "You didn't know how you hurt Holly, so I guess it makes sense. If you didn't want to hurt me."

"I don't," he corrected quietly.

"I just don't think you were the one who ruined her, Al."

He stared down at me, frozen. I could tell he was thinking hard – the gears were practically spinning in his mind – but he stayed expressionless, jaw locked. His hand, which had been previously tracing circles into my hip, had halted.

"Emily, I don't think you know what you're talking about," he said finally.

"Just hear me out." I took his hand and kissed the inside of his palm. "Look, for the past two months, I've gotten to know you, and you don't seem like a person who drives people insane. I mean, you've driven _me_ insane, but not _mentally_ insane."

He exhaled loudly. "Look, you–"

"No, I know you, Al," I said firmly, "and there's nothing about you or anything you do that may have caused Holly to go crazy, okay? If there was, I would've been just like her. But I'm not. You're _normal,_ okay? You're not a monster."

"I was different at fifteen," he confessed. "I was really arrogant, really full of myself, and I honestly wasn't really the nicest person. I mean, I thought I treated Holly pretty well, but now I'm not so sure…"

I bit my lip. "Did it ever occur to you that Holly said those things because she didn't want you to break up with her?"

Al became still. "But… it's not like it worked…"

"I don't know." I was grasping at straws, because I just couldn't _believe _that someone like Al would do something like that, even if he didn't do it on purpose. I didn't want him to feel badly about himself for something like this. It couldn't be true. "I just don't believe her version of the story. There had to be something else."

"No, no," he said firmly, shaking his head. "No, it was me. I'm sure."

"Why?" I demanded, squeezing his hand. "Al, your story has holes in it, and quite honestly, it doesn't make much sense.

"I –"

"Why did you tell Holly you were in love with her if you weren't?"

Something inside of him seemed to snap, as though he was losing control. He suddenly looked so pained, tortured, guilty. He really did believe everything she told him, didn't he? He believed it, and then he did what he always does: he pushed it to the back of his mind and pretended it didn't matter.

Like he tried to do with me.

And he really should've learned by now that it didn't work.

"We're not talking about this anymore," he told me, taking his hand out of my grip, closing his eyes and leaning back onto the reclining bed. "Okay? We're not."

"Al…"

"We're not." His voice was shaky this time. He was finally losing resolve. I felt as though I was his weakness, and as soon as I was getting through to him, he closed up entirely. "Emily, please stop."

I took his hand and grasped it. "I'm sorry."

"Look, you know everything now," he said, "so can you just… let it go? Please?"

I didn't say anything for a few moments. Just wrapped in each other. I was struggling for words, trying to understand why exactly he was always trying to help people. Why he'd told Holly he loved her, just because it was what she wanted to hear.

"Al?" I said softly. "You don't always have to be the hero."

"What?"

"The hero." I bit my lip. "You don't have to tell people what they want to hear, and then freak out about it. You don't even have to tell me you love me if you don't yet. You don't have to go to crazy lengths to help people you don't know."

"But –"

"I understand that it's _noble._" I exhaled, shaking my head. "I just think that sometimes, you have to ask yourself what's best for you. If marrying a stranger is really worth giving up your safety for. If telling someone you love them when you don't is worth all the guilt, two years later."

"I…" He sighed. "Emily, I'm not a hero."

"But you're trying to be, and you're just such a _good_ person," I said, almost affectionately. "Even if you're an asshole sometimes."

He smiled a little. "For the record, I'm glad I helped you. I'm glad I got to know you. I'm glad I got to fall in love with you."

I couldn't help but lean over him and press my lips against his.

He leaned back against the pillows, eyes drooping. Then his smile drooped. "I think I should talk to Holly. To end this whole mess, you know?"

"Yeah." I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching a little. "I'll leave you to sleep for a little while, okay? Feel better. Heal. Stop whining to the nice nurse."

"I will once she stops giving me nasty-tasting potions," he countered. I laughed and leaned over to kiss him one last time. He hummed against my lips. "Look, the war is over. Once we get out of here, we deserve a fresh start. Right?"

"Of course." I stood up properly and brushed a hand through his hair, not wanting to leave. But he looked like he was about to pass out. "See you soon." He mumbled incoherently, and I smiled.

Communication – _honest _communication: the key of a good relationship.

Sometimes that's a hard lesson to learn.

* * *

As I was entering the waiting room, I realized that the Potter family all had very different ways of reacting to a situation. Take Al's siblings for example: James was pacing back and forth, like he couldn't sit still, and Lily was curled up in chair, drifting in and out of sleep. Mrs. Potter was sitting beside her, staring straight ahead, tense and stiff.

I instantly felt horrible for them; their son/brother and father/husband were both caught up in this mess. Hell, I belonged there with them. How did tragedies somehow manage to bring families together?

Mrs. Potter didn't notice me until I'd gone up to her – then her eyes lit up and she threw her arms around me. It was comforting.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled into her shoulder as she squeezed me. "I didn't mean to get Al into this mess. I didn't even know what this mess was going to be like."

"It's not your fault," she insisted immediately, releasing me. "You saved him. You're a victim in this, and Al chose to get involved. In fact, I would be very surprised if this didn't happen, even if he didn't know you."

I nodded uncertainly. "Are you sure?"

"Of course –"

"Mrs. Potter?"

She jumped up as a healer called her name. My jaw dropped in surprise; it was the hot healer that Rose and I had drooled over earlier in the summer. Bloody hell, I'd forgotten all about him.

"Yes?" Mrs. Potter called, hurrying over to him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," he assured her, flashing her a heart-wrenching smile. How did his teeth get so white? "Mr. Potter – your husband, that is – just woke up, if you'd like to see him."

"Yes, yes, of course," she said, her face lighting up. "How's Albus doing?"

"Fine, but he's sleeping…" He lead her down the hallway. To my surprise, James collapsed into the chair beside Lily's, and she put her arms around him.

"Aren't you going to follow?" I asked, confused.

"We'll wait for the mushy stuff to be over," Lily clarified. She kissed her brother's forehead. "Oi, cheer up. It's not the end of the world."

"What happened?" I asked.

She squeezed him. "Nothing, don't worry. And by the way," she added, "none of this is your fault. In fact, you're the sole reason for making Al into a bearable person who does more than sleep, eat, write and whine."

"Yeah, now he snogs, too," I put in unhelpfully. She laughed.

"And he smiles. A lot." She gave me a grateful smile. "He really cares about you, okay? You shouldn't feel guilty because someone loves you back."

I blushed.

"Emily?" I felt a tapping on my shoulder and I turned around to see – _Amy_?

"What are you doing here?" I asked, flabbergasted. She looked a mess – something that was very unusual for her. Amy was the kind of person who always had perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect makeup, perfect _everything_, and at the moment, she looked like she'd gone through hell and back. There was dirt and grime and blood all over her, and she was gripping her wand like it was her lifeline.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious without my own wand. It was still sitting in my dorm room.

"Hi," she said awkwardly, eyeing James and Lily. They took this as their cue to slink out of the waiting room – probably to visit their dad.

"What happened to you?" I asked, sitting down with her. "Were you in the battle?"

"Oh yeah." She chuckled and looked down at her clothes. "Sort of. Holly and I blew up Azkaban, as you probably guessed."

"Could've done with a warning."

"Too risky," she said, shaking her head. "Sorry to hear about Potter, by the way. Will he be okay?"

"Yeah, I hope so." My hands fidgeted in my lap. The last time we'd talked was on that boat, when I'd found out that David had hit her, too – and for longer. Before that was at Corner's party when she was completely smashed. And before _that_, we still hated each other.

It was a little awkward.

Amy sighed. "Look, Emily… I'm so sorry. For everything. It was me who started the whole fiasco in fifth year, but I didn't know he would _hit_ you –"

"I know," I cut in quickly. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." She sighed again. "It's just that I've always been jealous of you – but it's no excuse for what I did, and the fact that you went through what I did…"

"Hey," I said gently as I saw tears form in her eyes. "I understand. It still hurts. Even now."

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "He's in jail, though."

"He's _what_?"

"I made sure." Amy sniffed again before clearing her throat. "This might've been after you left – but at some point, aurors came to Azkaban and stopped the fight. Almost like the entire ministry was there. It was easy for them to put Azkaban back together, and I helped them put the right people behind bars."

"You helped?" I repeated. "How? Weren't you part of the Death Eaters?"

"No, no, I've been on your side for a little while." She began to fidget with her sleeves. "Around the same time I was beginning to question David, and the whole Death Eater thing, I bumped into Holly. Literally. Recognized her, got talking to her, all that. She helped me through all this shit.

"I guess that's when we started this plan," she continued, glancing to me. "I mean, there were a bunch of innocent people still in Azkaban, even after Holly's dad was murdered, you know? And the Death Eaters weren't going to let them go, because they were either pure bloods or Slytherins, so they wanted them to join the Death Eaters so they could take over."

"If they just wanted to take over, why did they take Al's dad?" I asked.

"He's a powerful wizard, I suppose," she said, shrugging. "Has a lot of influence on people. Truth is, the Death Eaters didn't want to kill muggle borns or half-bloods, and they were trying to get Mr. Potter to advance this side of the community to heed to the pure blood ideals."

"So they killed the minister…" I frowned. "Because of his laws, right?"

"Yeah, and because they needed to lure Mr. Potter into the ministry to capture him. But that book Mr. Birch wrote was apparently what set the leaders over."

"Bloody hell," I said, feeling overwhelmed as I leaned back into my chair. "Who were the leaders?"

"The Carrow siblings and Fenrir Greyback." I shuddered, and she nodded grimly. "Yeah, remember them at those dinner parties? They always creeped me out."

"Bloody hell," I repeated under my breath. "But they new Death Eaters were mostly innocent, weren't they? I mean, they were just students."

"Yes, except for a few." She looked to her knees. "Like David."

A silence fell between us.

"So," I said a few moments later, "the old Death Eaters are in imprisoned? Or is everyone going through some sort of hearing?"

"The latter." She hugged her knees to her chest. "I told the aurors who to throw immediately into jail, I had a pretty good idea who was in on it for real. The rest are in the ministry, waiting for their hearing. There's no minister, no head auror…"

"Everything's a mess," I finished, and she nodded.

"It's just all this prejudice," she said sadly. "Against muggle borns, against purebloods – whatever it is, it has to stop."

"We can hope."

"We can hope," she agreed, finally smiling. The next thing I knew, she was hugging me tightly. "I hope we can be friends again."

"Yeah," I said softly. And I did. I knew that we would never be that close again – sharing secrets, hanging out together – but I would've liked to rid of all the bitterness and animosity.

She probably needed a friend more than I did, at this point.

James and Lily came up to us as we released each other, looking slightly annoyed. I waved half-heartedly at them. "What happened?"

"Mum and Dad started snogging again," Lily grumbled as they sat down. James didn't say anything; he kept staring at the floor, looking like everything around him was crumbling. I didn't understand why – I mean, Mr. Potter and Al were okay, for the most part…

"James, what's wrong?" I asked worriedly.

"Nothing –"

"It's not _nothing_, Lily," he snapped, and she turned away, sulking. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. "Holly broke up with me."

"She _what_?" Amy and I said together.

"Yep," he said gloomily. "Don't know why. Didn't explain."

I suddenly felt a knot tighten in my stomach. "Where is Holly?"

"She's here," Amy answered, biting her lip. "Said she wanted to talk to Potter."

Shit.

"Emily, I don't think you've got anything to worry about," Lily reassured me as I stood, suddenly feeling jittery. "Al loves you, you know that." I didn't listen; I was already hurrying off towards Al's room, fists clenched together, extremely anxious.

I mean… why did she break up with James?

Al said he was _weirded out_ about Holly and James' relationship. Not jealous. I didn't fully believe that, because he needed closure, but I knew he didn't have feelings for her. I knew that. I wasn't stupid – I _knew_ Al loved me, and I didn't have to worry about that – but I just didn't have a good feeling about it.

I slowed at the entrance of his room, hiding behind the door frame and peeking in, like I had last time. I could see them clearly – someone had opened all the curtains. Al was sitting up in bed. He looked like he'd been crying – absolutely exhausted and worn out and in pain. Holly was sitting beside him in bed, back to me, speaking to him. Holding his hand.

I knew it was going to happen before it did, but I was frozen. I watched helplessly as Holly leaned down and pressed her lips against his. Merlin, I _knew_ she would do something like this – but Al evidently didn't. He jumped in surprise, and then gently pushed her back.

His gaze slid towards the door, and he saw me. His eyes were clearly apologetic and saying this-isn't-what-it-looks-like. I glared back at him, as if to say, '_Well, what _does_ this look like_?' before turning to leave.

I knew this was all Holly's doing. But could he not be so _clueless_?

I pursued down the hallway, not really knowing where I was going, practically fuming. One day, I was going to give that girl a piece of my mind. That she couldn't just do this to people – use them, throw them away. But I wanted Al to tell her first. And what were they talking about, anyway? _Why_ had she kissed him?

That boy had a lot of explaining to do.


	47. Emily: The End

**Chapter Forty-Seven: Emily: The End  
**

I caved first.

I was fully expecting Al to cave first, even if he was confined to his bed. After all, he was the one who insisted on being a prat and not telling the entire story. The entire time I was in the hospital on Friday, I was expecting _something. _An explanation. What happened with Holly. But expectations are usually disappointing.

I found Adam and Dom in the waiting room after that. Apparently they'd stayed in the hospital long enough to find out if we were going to be okay, and then went home to sleep in their own beds. Understandable, really. They seemed happy with each other.

Then I found out where Rose and Scorpius had gone. To my surprise, this was the day that Rose was to have her checkup, and it was official: they were having a boy. A living, breathing, baby boy that was perfectly healthy so far. Just the concept of a baby at the age of eighteen freaked me out, but they just seemed so _happy_…

Everyone was just so bloody happy, weren't they?

I also saw Mr. Potter. That was nerve-wracking – but he's my father-in-law, and he really was a great person, so it wasn't all that bad. Turns out he didn't suffer from all that much torture, since the Death Eaters wanted him on their side, so he was mostly okay. Tired, but okay. He hugged me for the first time and said he was proud of me. That meant a lot more than I thought it would.

My parents took me home shortly after that – partly to make sure I was okay, and partly because of an article in the _Witch Weekly_. Someone at the party had taken a photo of me when I fell in the pool and accused Al of being the cause of my bruises.

So I had to tell my parents the truth, didn't I?

I'd been cornered. Trapped. My parents knew it wasn't Al, but I don't think they'd imagined it was David. Honestly, I was pretty sure they thought the article was fabricated, since it made me out to be the victim who also didn't deserve to be in the spotlight because I wasn't pretty or skinny enough for Albus Severus Potter.

The media are a bunch of wankers.

My parents were stunned. My mum cried. I don't like thinking about it. It was humiliating and horrible and I couldn't look them in the eyes when I showed them my bruises for the first time. My dad recognized the problem with the spell I'd screwed up in fifth year, and he'd banished it quickly.

My bruises were finally gone. _Gone._

Like David was.

Let's just say he was lucky he was already behind bars, because my parents just about tracked him down and beat the shit out of him.

It was disconcerting to say how much the illusion of his marks on me actually affected me. The moment they were gone, I'd run to the mirror and just stared at myself. The absence of _him _on my skin. I felt slightly lighter. Freer.

I should've told my parents years ago.

The rest of Friday and Saturday were a bit of a blur of me getting all my coursework from my professors and catching up on a week's worth of work. I hung out with Amy for a bit, met a few more people, tried to keep myself busy and distracted. And it worked, for the most part. But when I went to bed Saturday night, Al still hadn't caved first. Hadn't shown up, hadn't sent me an owl – nothing. And I didn't want to cave until he was ready to own up to everything and tell me the entire story.

And I wouldn't have caved… if it weren't for the nightmares.

* * *

I woke up out of breath and dark spots clouding my vision as I sat up. I was aware of tears streaming down my face, but I didn't care; I swung my legs over the side of my bed, trying to convince myself it was just a dream, _just a dream –_

Fuck it.

Still dizzy, I stood up, groping around my desk in the dark for my wand. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was silly, but I just _had_ to see him, just to make sure, just to remember he was fine and alive and I was overreacting. Just to convince myself.

I apparated right in the hallway in front of Al and Adam's apartment – I supposed their wards had kept me out. I knew he wouldn't have been in the hospital any longer, and there was no way Al would stay in his parents' home and let them dote over him twenty-four seven.

At least, I hoped not. It would be awkward showing up at his parents' house in the middle of the night.

I knocked hard on the door, my knuckles already beginning to become sore, but I didn't stop until a bewildered and sleepy-looking Adam opened the door.

He blinked at me. "Emily?"

"I need to see Al," I said hurriedly, pushing past him. Thankfully, he only shook his head, let me go through and shut the door before going back to bed. Maybe he was used to crazy emotions after hanging around with Dom.

Al's bedroom door was open. I could see him sprawled out in bed, sleeping on his stomach, hands underneath his pillow. He had a shirt on over his wound, and I knew there wasn't any blood, but I just had to check. I didn't know why.

I shut the door behind me and tiptoed in, trying not to wake him up as I kneeled on his bed. The image him of him lying on the floor in Azkaban flashed before my eyes - blood all over his back, all over the floor, blood everywhere -

I quickly shoved his shirt up his back.

Perhaps a bit too forcefully and not carefully at all. Oops. Al's eyes shot open and his hand immediately went to his wand on the bedside table – Amy must've given it back to him. I cringed back as he suddenly lit his wand in my face.

"Emily?" he asked, gobsmacked. I took his shock to my advantage and shoved him back onto his stomach. His wand fell to the bed and he grunted.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Stay still," I instructed, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.

"But -" His next words were cut off on account of my straddling his lower back, away from his scars. He grunted again. Carefully and slowly, I pulled the shirt off his skin and brought it up so I could see his entire back.

Shakily, I picked up his wand and used the light to get a better look. Just like I knew it would be, he was fine. Long, red, jagged lines covered the spots near his shoulder blades, but no blood.

It was as though I could finally see clearly that he was alive. He didn't even feel pain anymore. Alive, okay, _healing_. That he wasn't going to leave anytime soon, not like everyone else did, and I could finally – literally – see that.

"Em?" Al's voice broke through my stream of thought. He sounded tired and confused. "What's going on?"

I shook my head, another lump rising in my throat. His wand dropped out of my hand and the light went out. I'd begun shaking again, and I didn't know why. Maybe I just felt so overwhelmed by it all.

My tears dropped on his back, and he squirmed. He gently turned to push me off, and I let him. I let him put his arms around me, pull me into his lap and wipe my tears. My forehead fell onto his, and I couldn't stop trembling.

"What happened?" he asked again, sounding more than a little worried. "Was there something wrong with my back?"

I shook my head again. "N-no."

"What were you checking?"

I took a deep breath. "I had a dream. They were torturing me, and you -" I nearly dissolved in tears again. It had seemed so real, so vivid, so painful. "You were dying again."

He stilled for a moment before taking a deep breath. "So you came here in the middle of the night to check."

"Had to make sure." I wanted to pull back to wipe my eyes, but our foreheads together made us closer, and I loved this. Just needed close for a little while. Even if his cheeks were wet from my tears. I sniffed a little and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, kissing my nose. "You can be here anytime you want to. You don't have to ask or apologize."

"I love you," I said quietly before collapsing in another fit of tears. I clutched at his collar and buried my face in his shirt. He didn't seem to mind - thankfully, because I couldn't stop sobbing.

I think was all the hurt pouring out from within me. Because after David and getting over David and falling in love again and getting rejected again and being rejected from society and my dad taken away then all the torture and fear and knowing _this is it I'm going to die_ then nearly losing Al.

I didn't want this pain. I was too young to feel so much.

But there was hope. In between all the waves of anger and hurt, there was a part of me that knew it was over. That this part of my life was the last chapter, and it was time for something _good_ to happen. I just didn't know what it was. Yet.

It was the only reason I could finally let it all go and let my crying slowly come to a stop. I was tired of being strong all the time, but I was tired of being weak. I needed a balance. I needed to just be.

Al noticed my breathing return to normal when he spoke. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

"Good." He leaned back and looked over me, grinning for the first time. "What're you wearing?"

"Nothing," I stammered, turning crimson.

"I wish," he said wistfully, making me blush harder. He pulled at the hem of the Quidditch jersey I'd stolen from him. "You look amazing in Gryffindor colours."

"Shut it," I mumbled, pressing my face back into his shirt. I liked wearing his jersey to bed. It was comfortable. Not suggestive.

Right? Right.

"Hey, I'm only trying to make you laugh," he assured me, kissing the top of my head.

"By poking fun at my expense."

"You look sexy," he insisted boldly, and I chuckled. My nose was stuffy and red and my cheeks were patchy and my eyes were bloodshot. I knew he said it to cheer me up, and it was sweet.

"Thanks," I whispered, smiling into his shoulder.

Al kissed my forehead. "Stay?"

"So tempting," I murmured.

"Then stay."

I sighed, burying my nose in his neck. I just wanted to stay like this, in his warm embrace, skin against mine, feeling wanted - needed - forever. I loved how I felt around him.

But I wanted a bit more time to think. Was I really ready to be in another relationship, even with David still semi-fresh in my mind? Was Al ready? Did I want to be with someone who wasn't quite over what happened with their ex?

The question wasn't the existence of our relationship - but _when_. When were we ready? How did we know?

"Can't stay," I explained quietly. "I think I need a bit of time. I don't want to jump into things. We were going too fast."

He nodded. "We have lots of time."

_Do we?_ I smiled at the thought. It took nearly all my willpower to extract myself from Al's grip, wipe my eyes and stand.

"Hey," he said quickly, grabbing my hand. His eyes looked hopeful. "See you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah." I blushed for some reason.

He was way too good at making me feel wanted.

* * *

So I caved first.

When I made it back to my dorm, I realized I was more embarrassed about losing control like that more than anything. I was pretty sure I'd cried more in the past few months than I had in my entire life – well, minus that time I was dating David. It was getting a little embarrassing how much I'd cried in Al's arms.

But when I was getting back in bed, I felt a bit refreshed. Like I was all cried out. That was a good sign wasn't it?

I sighed and put my hands under my pillow, staring at the ceiling. Despite that I hadn't _exactly_ forgiven Al, I'd pretty much caved first. He still hadn't explained what happened with Holly and why she kissed him that day in the hospital. He was supposed to come to me. But with his injury… maybe that was a bit selfish.

Blame the Slytherin in me.

But I caved first anyway, so screw that.

I fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning, flipping my pillow to the cold side, yanking my covers on and off of me for what seemed like forever. I finally let out a loud sigh, accepting defeat and opening my eyes.

I must've fallen asleep for at least a couple of hours, because it was seven in the morning. It wasn't enough to help the exhaustion I felt. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes and registering the weather. I couldn't exactly go for a walk to clear my head in the rain.

But I could go for a run.

Merlin, when was the last time I'd run in the rain?

I winced as my bones creaked from standing. Sleepily, I rummaged through my dresser and pulled on running shorts and trainers. I jumped when there was a loud knock on the door.

_BANG BANG BANG._

"Who the _fuck_ is knocking at the crack of dawn?" Mabel groaned loudly. I looked over to see her cursing into her pillow. I stumbled over to the door and rose on my toes peak through the peephole in the door.

_BANG BANG BANG._

"_Al_?" I muttered, stunned. I quickly swung the door open before he could knock again. Bloody hell, it really was him. Actually standing there in the hallway of my dorm.

He grinned sheepishly at me, hand still raised in a fist, prepared to knock. As he lowered it, I noticed he was drenched. Droplets of water were dripping from his hair down to his nose. His t-shirt was sticking to his skin and I tried not to notice how well it fit around his shoulders and torso.

Sexually frustrated teenager? Check.

"Hey, Em," he said cheerfully. Much too cheerfully for seven in the morning.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" I asked, stunned.

"Nah, I'm mostly healed."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, so it may hurt a _little,_" he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. The movement didn't seem to hurt – at least, I couldn't detect that he was in pain. "But not much at all, and both the healer and my mum said it was all right to walk around today."

"So you came here… to walk around?" I concluded uncertainly.

"I actually came here to see if you wanted to make out in the rain," he said matter-of-factly. I blushed and his eyes travelled over me – still in his stupid jersey and now my running shorts. "I guess we could run if you want. Or snog. Your choice."

I bit my lip, unable to keep back my smile. "I want to run."

"Of course you do," he said, grinning in return.

"Could you both flirt somewhere _else_?" Mabel's grumpy voice called, making both of us turn crimson. I grabbed my keys and wand before following Al out of my dorm building and into the street.

It was pouring. Typical England. I couldn't say I enjoyed the rain all the time, but that September morning was warm and weightless. I tipped my head back as we walked, closing my eyes. Al took my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

"Feels amazing," I said quietly to him. He didn't respond.

I kept my eyes closed, letting my other senses take everything in. There was something about the way the rain that was clean – smelled clean, felt clean, even _sounded _clean. Al's arm slipped around my waist and I leaned into him as we walked.

"Do you remember when I told you that I loved running in the rain?" I asked softly, opening an eye to peek at him. Al frowned for a minute, thinking.

"You mentioned it," he said slowly, eyebrows furrowed together.

"Our wedding night."

"Oh yeah." His expression cleared and he chuckled. "We hated each other."

"I never _hated_ you."

"First time we met." He let out another small laugh. "We were mad at each other. But I think we were just freaking out."

"You pushed me against a wall," I accused, nudging him lightly with my hip.

"You said it was cliché."

"It was."

"Should've snogged you then. You're hot when you're angry."

"Shut up," I snapped playfully, and he laughed. He turned to me, clearly thinking about something.

"Do you –"

"MR. POTTER!"

Al and I jumped at the voice, coming seemingly out of nowhere – then we saw them. Wizard reporters running out of a muggle coffee shop, clearly having spotted him. And maybe me. That _Witch Weekly_ article was brutal.

His arm tightened around me as more reporters swarmed, all dropping their coffees or desperately clutching to them as they struggled for a quill and notepad out of their bags.

"Mr. Potter, are the rumours true?"

"Are the bruises real or fake?"

"How long have you been abusing your wife?"

"Mrs. Potter, why haven't you spoken up before?"

"BUGGER OFF!" Al bellowed, pushing his way through the crowd, taking me along with him. The back of his neck was red, and I knew he was embarrassed. Not only that, but angry. He just wasn't the kind of person to abuse or support abuse, and it must've been killing him that nearly every British wizard thought he did.

"Wait!" I said loudly, yanking myself out of his grip. I turned back to the reporters. In that moment, they didn't seem so horribly soul-destroying – okay, not as much. But I could use them as their advantage, if they were so willing to listen.

They instantly swarmed us again. I felt Al wrap his arms around my shoulders from behind protectively as they shouted questions at me. I took a deep breath. "Al didn't do it."

A hush came over the crowd, the questions replaced with scribbling on their wet parchment. I brushed wet hair of my eyes and went on. "It wasn't him. Al would never do anything to hurt me, or anyone. He'd never do anything like that."

"Then the bruises were fake?" one of the reporters interjected eagerly.

"No."

There were suddenly bright flashes of cameras – the photographers must've caught up. Al's hand had found mine and squeezed it tightly. I knew he wanted me to stop talking and run, but I needed to do this. I needed this for a long time.

"Mrs. Potter, what is your story?" another reporter called out.

"One of too many," I said nervously, voice trembling. I cleared my throat. "His name doesn't matter, because then you may relate it back to blood or hierarchy or some other form of prejudice. What matters is who he was, and the kind of person he was. And the fact that he thought it was okay to hurt me."

"Who –"

"It's your fault," I blurted out, turning red. "It's the media, it's their fault. He said it was okay to hurt me because I deserved it for not listening or doing exactly what he said, or not giving him what he wanted – or not sleeping with him. And _you,_" I spat out, "as an industry, told him that it was okay."

"How?"

"Because the media say women are supposed to give in to whatever men want. And I didn't." I looked down at my torso, and knew if David wasn't gone before, he was now. "He said I deserved it. But I didn't. Nobody does."

I didn't know if Al noticed me shuddering or somehow sensed I was finished, but at that, he gripped my slippery hand and pulled me away from the reporters that were still madly scribbling. Then we were running, our steps noisily splashing through puddles on the cobblestone street.

"Diagon Alley is just around the corner," Al panted out to me, and I nodded. The reporters gave us a head start, but only just; I'd never been so relieved to see the tiny Leaky Cauldron entrance.

We only slowed down once we'd scrambled inside, shut the door, quickly made our way into Diagon Alley and turned the corner. Once we were on Al's street, we stopped and leaned against the nearest building, completely out of breath.

"Well," Al panted, "you did want to run in the rain."

I laughed breathlessly, pushing strands of hair out my eyes. Merlin, had I really just done that? I was normally scared shitless of paparazzi, and not only a few minutes ago, I'd told them what I'd been trying to say to myself for years. What I'd been trying to believe for years. When I looked backed at Al, he was staring intently at me.

I suddenly felt self-conscious. "What?"

He grinned. "I am so fucking proud of you."

I laughed again, leaning back on the building and looking up at the dark clouds. Whoever said that rain was purely for times of distress never lived in a place where it rained too often. That there was a positive and negative side to everything.

I didn't know what the reporters were going to make of whatever I'd said to them, but I knew that Al was off the hook. They knew he hadn't hurt me. After everything we'd been through, after everything he did for me, I was glad I could do this for him.

I looked back at Al, who was still watching me. He didn't look hurt at all, even from running. I couldn't exactly read his expression. Somewhere in between content and that look he got when he wanted to snog me. Which was often.

"You wanted to make out in the rain," I said suddenly.

He laughed. "I'm not too picky of the setting."

"I've always wanted to kissed against a wall like in books," I teased. "You know. By someone I want to kiss back."

Al laughed again before swinging around tiredly, stepping in front of me and placing his hands on the wall beside me. He leaned close, our noses nearly touching, and I could smell his soap and shampoo and whatever else he wore that made him smell so good.

"I kissed you on the nose once," he pointed out, his breath brushing against my lips.

"Could we get more cliché than kissing against a wall in the rain? I'm trying to think of ways."

"We could be drunk," he suggested.

"Our parents could hate each other," I added.

"We'd be hiding."

"And madly in love."

"At least we've got some of them down," he said, laughing again before cupping my face and kissing me. I could feel him smiling against my lips, rain falling around _us_ and not separately, and I finally understood all the hype about doing this because I felt that kiss right down to my toes.

Being cliché was so worth it sometimes.

* * *

I wasn't sure if we'd ever been this giddy before. One little adrenaline rush and we were stumbling to Al's apartment, laughing so hard it became uncontrollable little giggles. Al could barely get the key in the lock for a second so we could get in.

"Adam?" he called as we got in, trying to control our laughter. "You here?"

Nothing.

More giggles, but that was from me.

"Shut it," Al said, plucking up a pillow from the couch and chucking it at me. I tried to keep a straight face – and failed miserably. He shut the door and wrapped his arms around me from behind. Our wet clothes were soaking wet and made a squishy noise when he squeezed me.

"Maybe we should change," I suggested, hiccupping a little.

"Mmm, in a minute," he said, beginning to kiss the back of my neck. "I've missed this."

"I kind of miss being dry." He ignored me, moving my hair and pressing his lips firmly against my shoulder. I smiled. "I've missed this, too."

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"Goofing off." I turned around and wrapped my arms around the back of his neck. "Before this got really serious. When we just talked and laughed and ate food all day. Like on our honeymoon."

"Me too." He kissed the corner of my lips. "Imagine how it would've been if we were snogging like this by then."

I giggled again and he went back to kissing my neck. "Okay, get off. We need to get dry before we catch something." He ignored me entirely – so predictable – so I wriggled out of his grip and dragged him to the bathroom for towels.

He threw a fresh one to me, and I wiped my face dry. When I looked up, Al was stripping his shirt off – and if that wasn't enough, my eyes nearly bulged out when he undid his jeans.

"Al!" I yelped, covering my eyes. _Don't peek, don't peek_.

"What?" Al asked, laughing. I heard his footsteps approach me. Then his hands were at the hem of my shirt, tugging upwards. "You should probably get used to this."

"I was fine until the pants," I grumbled, opening my eyes and pulling my shirt over my head. We'd been topless in front of each other before. Didn't mean it didn't make me nervous. He chuckled at my expression and leaned down to kiss my neck again.

Suddenly, I heard his stomach growl.

I giggled _again_ – bloody hell, what was wrong with me? – and tried not to focus on the fact that he was just in boxers. That were wet. "Someone's hungry."

"Didn't get breakfast," he admitted, a little pink in the face. "Did you?"

"No." I quickly turned away, toweling off a bit more waving my wand at my shirt, drying it off. I felt his eyes burning into my back, or wherever he was looking. I quickly put the jersey back on and nodded towards the door. "Leave."

"Do I have to?" he whined jokingly, and I pushed him out of the bathroom.

When I'd finished drying myself and my clothes, I came out to find Al in the kitchen. He was hunched over a book, a bowl in one hand and a box in the other. I could see that he'd changed into clean boxers with little broomsticks scattered all over them. Cute.

"What are you doing?" I asked, hoisting myself up on the counter beside the book. I peeked at what he was looking at. "Pancake recipe?"

He nodded, not looking up. "They're the only thing I can make.

"You can make pancakes, but you can't boil water?" I teased, and he laughed. I watched as he gathered ingredients and carefully followed the instructions as he made the batter and heated the pan. I wondered briefly if he was this focused in Potions class. There were so many things I still didn't know about him.

But Merlin, why was it was so hot when guys did any cooking?

Suddenly, Al was turning off the stove and pulling me by the waist to the edge of the counter and snogging me without restraint. I felt his lips curve upwards as my legs wrapped around his hips.

"I should cook more often," he whispered. I blushed furiously.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yup." He pressed his lips firmly to mine, his hands sliding to the tops of my thighs and squeezing them. My back was pressing uncomfortably against the cabinet, and I pressed closer to him. I think he mistook it for enthusiasm, because he deepened the kiss and lifted me off the counter.

Guess it was a good thing he shut the stove off, then.

I never could quite figure how he managed to walk backward out of the kitchen, through the hall and into the living room while snogging me, but he did. We'd just neared the sofa when I broke away and began kissing his neck. I was pretty sure this was the sole reason Al fell backwards.

His back hit the couch and I landed in his lap. He groaned as I began sucking down his neck, burying his hands in my hair before pulling me back up and kissing me again. I didn't exactly plan to be straddling my boyfriend and snogging him in his empty apartment that Sunday, but I wasn't complaining.

My fingers found the hem of his t-shirt. Then slipped under. His skin was warm and firm, and I could feel his muscles tightening as he moved against me. Then he was leaning forwards and I was pulling his shirt off and wondering why exactly we'd bothered to get changed.

My hands were roaming, and his were sliding from my hair to my face and down, down, down. Al pushed my shirt up, his kisses becoming more frantic, but still gentle. My heart sped up just a bit more.

He stopped kissing me long enough to pull my jersey over my head, tossing it somewhere behind me before attacking my neck with his lips. My hands threaded themselves in his hair as he ran his tongue over my collarbone, hungrily kissing and sucking his way down my chest. My breathe hitched as his hands, previously on my waist, slowly slid upwards and closer to my bra. I instantly felt self-conscious.

How did I never notice we were going a bit further than I was used to until it hit me in the face? Other than the fact that this felt so bloody _amazing_?

Al didn't seem to notice a thing. His fingers traced gently up to the front of my chest, over my bra. I felt warm everywhere as he touched me, kissing further down to the middle of my chest, ducking around the necklace he'd given me.

"_Al_," I whispered nervously. This felt _too_ good, and that's why I felt like we shouldn't have been doing this. He leaned up to kiss me again, and it was hungry and sweet and wonderful. I wanted to melt right there. But I stiffened again when his hands roamed over to my bra clasp.

_ABORT. ABORT. ABORT._

"Not yet," I gasped, breaking away from his lips. I pressed my face into his shoulder so I didn't have to see his disappointment. "Stop, not yet."

His hands halted. "Are you –"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I was out of breath and my heart was beating so hard I could hear it, but I really was fine. I leaned up to kiss him quickly, still not meeting his eyes. "I swear. I just freaked out a little. I've never done this before."

"That's okay," he assured, breaking out into a smile. He began kissing me again, his hands falling to my waist. My cheeks were burning.

I didn't really know why I wasn't ready to go further. I wasn't ready to be naked like _that_ in front of him. I trusted him, but maybe it was that level of intimacy I wasn't ready for. Maybe it was because of David, maybe it wasn't.

"Al," I mumbled, breaking the kiss again. He hummed in response. "Al, can you tell me about Holly?"

His eyes snapped open in surprise.

"Sorry." I avoided his eyes again. "I don't want to push you, but it's just… why did she kiss you, especially right after she broke up with James? What were you two talking about?"

"I pushed her away –"

"I know." I rolled my eyes. "Why do you think we've been snogging for the past half hour?"

"There's that," he admitted in relief, and I laughed. He brushed his fingers across my jaw. "This is hard to focus on when you're straddling me."

"Topless."

"Exactly." He kissed me again. Slowly, gently, sweetly. Everything David wasn't. I smiled against his lips, and he pulled away, keeping his eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against mine. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I think that's why we're not ready." I kissed him one last time before reluctantly pushing myself off his lap. My legs felt like jelly as I reached for our shirts, tossing his to him. "Did Holly tell you all that bullshit about how you ruined her?"

"No," he admitted. I finished putting my shirt back on before sitting down next to him. "I think you'll be glad to hear that she told me the real story."

"The real story?"

"Of what happened to her," he clarified, taking my hand in his. "When she went crazy. It wasn't me."

I rolled my eyes. "I _told_ you."

"Yeah, I guess you did," he said, chuckling. "She said I could tell you everything, you know."

"She did?"

"She did." He brought his arm around me to bring me closer, still holding my hand. "Remember I told you that I wanted to be an auror when I was younger?"

I nodded. "You've got this whole saving-people thing going on."

"Just like my dad," he said. "I guess, on some level, that's why I liked Holly all those years ago. But not entirely."

"What do you mean?"

"I fancied her for about a year before I dated her," he said. "When I fancied her, I didn't know a thing about her. All of fourth year, I was just stuttering around her because I thought she was pretty."

I laughed. "So what changed?"

He suddenly looked very guilty. "Remember Mark?"

"Your best friend who…" I cleared my throat uncertainly. "You know."

"Yeah, who died." He didn't look at me as he spoke his next words. "He was dating her, right before he died."

"_What_?"

"Well, no, not exactly." He shifted uncomfortably, and I noticed his hand was becoming considerably sweaty. "See, Mark and I were best mates, but so were Mark and Holly. Them more so, because they'd known each other since they were babies. They started dating the summer before fourth year. I didn't really know Holly before then."

"You… but… shit," I stuttered, stunned. "You liked her because Mark did?"

"No, no," he denied instantly. "I noticed her because he did. And I never actually told him I had feelings for her. I stayed out of the way, mostly."

"And then he died."

A pained look crossed his face. "Yeah, he did. I don't know how I started dating her, exactly, but we both knew it was doomed to fail. We were both miserable most of the time, because our best friend had just suddenly _died,_ and we were just using each other for comfort."

I leaned my cheek on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He kissed my forehead. "Neither of us loved each other. Holly told me she dated me because I reminded her of Mark – and we were like brothers, it makes sense. She said it was a bit of self-destruction on her part that drove her crazy. And there was more."

"More what?"

"In her life." He shrugged. "She never told me at the time, you know? I didn't have any idea what happened during fifth year. But it turns out that the same summer Mark passed away, her mother actually left her and her dad."

A chill ran down my spine. "Why?"

"It had to do with her dad. He was minister by then, right? But he was power-hungry, and he was really neglecting his family at that point. I guess it was a breaking point for her mum. And then for Holly, because she snapped after I lied about loving her. She didn't think anyone loved her anymore."

I snuggled closer to him. As horrible as what she did was, I almost understood. I don't think I could imagine feeling that alone. At least I always knew I had my parents and Scorpius by my side. I remembered how Holly scared away everyone at Hogwarts, and I often saw her as alone as I was. I'd never though anything of it before, because, well… she was crazy.

"So that's why she went mad," I concluded quietly. "From grief and loneliness."

"Exactly."

"She still shouldn't have done that to you."

"She blamed me, but I was too hard on myself, he explained. "I felt like I'd failed in a major way, because I'd actually managed to drive someone to _insanity._ But I'm also selfish, since after she'd accused me of doing all those things and believing her, I didn't own up to it and try to help her. I was a coward. I just ran into hiding and buried my feelings until I couldn't feel them anymore."

"I know the feeling."

"She _knew_ it, too," he added, sounding a little angry. "She knew, deep down, that she didn't have any right to blame me, but she did anyway. She knew that I was the sort of person who would help her, and I guess it was some strange way of crying for help. She didn't expect that I'd back down."

"That's still not fair, Al."

"I know. But that's the thing, right?" he asked dejectedly. "It's like I'll only help people because I get something in return, or if I'm not too scared to do it."

"That's not true. You helped me."

"Because I hate seeing you hurt," he corrected, shaking his head. "I know I'm selfish. But Holly came that day to tell me that it wasn't actually my fault, since she knew that the guilt probably still bothered me and she wanted to set things right. For closure or something."

I snorted. "Is _that _why she kissed you?"

"Yeah," he admitted, rolling his eyes. "I mean, she may have had therapy and she's not quite mad anymore, but she's still strange."

"Why'd she break up with James?" I asked. "He really seems to like her."

"Actually, she found her mum." I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, apparently her mum contacted her after all those years and apologized and whatnot. Holly thought it would be best if she just broke it off with everyone before going to live with her mum. Fresh start and all."

"So that's it?" I said, confused. "She's just gone now?"

"Who knows."

"At least she's leaving us alone now," I said, and Al chuckled in agreement. I honestly just feel bad for her now. She did lose her dad and her best friend, but she screwed with too many lives in the process.

"She got us out of this whole predicament," Al told me. She and your friend Amy really did manage to bring this shit to an end. Actually, she visited me yesterday."

"She did?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I had a ton of visitors in the hospital," he said, looking slightly annoyed at the thought. "Amy was one of them. She gave me back my wand and told me how she and Holly were helping with the ministry rebuilding."

"They are?"

"Well, Holly quit," he said, "but they both helped the ministry separate the innocent from the guilty. Everyone who was innocent in Azkaban because of that stupid law that started all of this have been released. Turns out that the ministry records were tampered with, because all the Death Eaters that lead the rebellion were pronounced dead in the records. But they were actually just abroad."

"No wonder they weren't caught before," I said. "Nearly everyone the minister arrested must've been innocent."

"Exactly. Amy told me that she and Holly helped the ministry put Azkaban back together again, and arrested the right prisoners. Holly quit after that, but your friend is going to join the ministry and help re-establish all the security measures. I think Kingsley is temporarily minister of magic, so they can get everything sorted out."

"I'm glad." I squeezed his hand. "It's just… Holly has a story, you know? David didn't. He was just a vindictive person who hated when he didn't get what he wanted."

A silence fell in between us. I had a feeling he didn't know what to say.

But nothing could fix what happened, and I didn't expect him to try.

"My dad and I spent some time together yesterday," he said suddenly. "That's why I didn't see you yesterday. We were both bed ridden at my parent's house, just playing Wizard's Chess and Exploding Snap."

"Sounds like fun," I said, fully grinning now.

"He'll be fine, though. Beat me at Wizard's Chess. I'd say he's already getting better." I laughed. "We just spent the day together as a family before I convinced my mum to let me come back here and sleep in peace."

"And then I came crying to you when I had a nightmare," I said, half-sarcastic, half-embarrassed.

"I have nightmares about you, too."

"But you don't freak out," I pointed out, blushing. "You've never told me your nightmares."

Al shrugged. "I'm just relieved when I wake up. I don't need to."

I didn't know what to say.

"Rose and Scorpius visited too," he added, as though he'd just remembered. "They told me that they're having a boy."

"I know. I'm so happy for them."

"Me too," he said, kissing my forehead again. "I bet you anything that we'll end up being godparents, they hinted at it enough."

I couldn't stop smiling. "Merlin, things really are getting better. I mean, you don't think you were responsible for Holly anymore, do you?"

"No," he admitted, burying his nose in my hair. "I'm sorry I told you to get over me."

"You're not going to stop loving me because you don't have to save me, are you?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them – and believe me, I tried. It was a silly thought, but if Al liked Holly because he thought he could save her…

To my surprise, Al laughed.

"You're kidding, right?" he teased, chortling. "Merlin, of course not. That's not why I love you."

I stayed silent for a few moments. I wasn't angry or embarrassed. I just couldn't decide whether we loved each other because we'd been pushed together because of the situation. We'd known each other for a total of three months. Logically, nothing seemed sound. I still wanted to get to know him better.

"Do you think we would love each other if it weren't for these?" I asked quietly, holding up our hands to gesture to our rings. "What if you'd actually decided to go to graduation that day? Would this have happened at all?"

Al shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "I dunno."

"We're married, and we call each other boyfriend and girlfriend," I said, biting my lip nervously. Making a split-second decision, I wriggled my ring off of my finger. "I don't want us to be together because of this. What if things screw up? We've barely been together, remember?"

Al became quiet, staring at my ring. I could tell he was thinking, but his expression made it impossible to tell what. He knew I had a point, though.

"I don't know," he confessed after a few minutes. "I don't know the future and what's going to happen and why we fell for each other so quickly. But we're not breaking up because we don't know what will happen in a few months."

"I know."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Just…" I hesitated, then slipped my ring in his palm. "Just give this back when you're ready to call me your wife. Until we're past all of this. Until we don't have to think about Holly or David anymore and we're not stupid teenagers anymore."

Al smiled and slipped the ring in his pocket. "Deal."

"Thanks." I blushed. I was so dramatic. But I wanted to do this properly. "I don't want to break up. I'd end up snogging you five minutes later."

He laughed and kissed me lightly. "I'd say we're already getting past our exes fairly easily."

"I guess it helps that my scars are gone."

"They're – _what_?"

"My parents saw that magazine," I admitted, leaning back pulling off my shirt. I unclasped his chain and held it in my hand, showing him how even without the locket he'd charmed, the fake scars didn't show up. "They undid the spell I screwed up all those years ago."

His fingers brushed my stomach, disbelief in his eyes. "They're really gone."

"Yeah." I could keep from smiling now. "They are."

"I can't believe it."

"I want to show you something," I said suddenly, making another split-second decision. To his surprise, I jumped off the sofa and stood up, pulling down the right side of my shorts."

"What are you – is that your –"

"It's my tattoo," I said proudly. I couldn't even bring myself to feel awkward about it. I got it a bit below my right hip, so no one could see it if my shirt lifted up or my shorts pulled down a little. I didn't want anyone to know about it but me.

And now Al.

"Wow," he said, reaching over. I watched him as he traced it lightly, over the delicate ink etched in my skin. "Broken chains? What made you decide on that?"

At the time, I'd wanted something to symbolize my process in getting away from the person I'd become. That I'd literally broken away from who David wanted me to be, and all his expectations. I felt chained when I was with him, and I liked the idea of broken chains. That tattoo was one of the first steps I'd taken to getting better, because it was like a scar. But better. I needed the reminder.

And I felt like I could share that with Al, because he was the only one who really understood. Sure, Amy went through the same experience, but he understood _me._ He just got it, no questions asked.

I'll admit that at first, I didn't like him all that much, because he couldn't take anything seriously and tended to act like a git. But he showed how deeply he truly cared for people, even if he didn't want to admit it. And despite the fact that maybe our situation pushed us together, it was this memory that we couldn't ignore.

And even if the future was wonky and we kept running away from each other and Al buried his feelings and I felt too much… we were going to get through this. I think I was ready to share anything I could with him.

"Freedom," I answered softly, placing my fingers on top of his. "I think I'm getting there." I looked back to him. "Don't you think?"

I was ready to. We both were.

Smiling, he pulled me closer to him. Always closer. "I do."

THE END


	48. Albus: The Epilogue

**Chapter Forty-Eight: Albus: The (Official) Epilogue**

_Five Years Later_

"Dom and Adam are officially the craziest effing couple I've ever seen in my life."

"I completely agree."

"We should just leave now. It's never going to go through."

"Again, I completely agree," I said, slipping my hand in Emily's as we walked through the hallway towards the back of the lot. Dom had decided she wanted to try for an outdoor wedding again, but the last time she'd done that, it had rained in the middle of the ceremony. That Adam had run out of.

Dom and Adam have had _three weddings _so far.

It'd been five years since they met, and those two have gone on a bigger rollercoaster than any of us could've ever imagined. After the whole ministry ordeal, they went travelling for an entire year. Together. Sounds horribly romantic and mildly terrifying, and I don't event want to know what they did in that time. They came back after a year – _engaged, _no less – and Dom realized she still didn't have a clue what she wanted to do as a career while Adam was busy enrolling back into school and sending his writing everywhere in hopes of getting published.

Hence the first wedding – the indoor one – when Dom realized that she didn't want to get married so soon, didn't want to be dependent on Adam, blah blah blah. She ran out. Adam decided not to move out of our apartment (wise choice).

They spent some time apart before getting back together again. They didn't doubt they were in love, but Dom was always going on about inequality in a relationship, which I thought was bullshit. She was _obsessed,_ though, and it led her to frantically trying a number of different careers that she was horrible at.

Maybe Adam finally figured out how crazy she was after the fiftieth mental breakdown, since he ran out in the middle of the second wedding. When it rained. Dom's makeup was dripping everywhere and she looked hilarious. Emily had to elbow me repeatedly.

They didn't really break up after that. They finally decided it would be a good idea to talk to each other or something, and they spent more time together working things through. Dom calmed down a lot after that, and especially after she realized she sort of liked business and started her own. She owns a pretty successful clothing store now. Adam a steady job writing for some poetry magazine and helping her out at the sort. The third time they tried to get married, they'd stopped the wedding in the middle of it and decided they just weren't ready.

Seriously, Emily and I barely have any time together as it is. They'd better be freaking _ready_ this time.

I mean, think about it. We could be doing a lot more interesting things than watching Dom and Adam walk out on each other after spending too many galleons on another wedding. Things that didn't involve me wearing this itchy monkey suit. Though I did enjoy the not-so-subtle looks Emily was giving me, I'm never going to understand why she loved seeing me in a suit.

She stopped just before the entrance to the backyard. "You're sure we can't get away with leaving? It'll be over in fifteen minutes, tops."

I shrugged, opening the door for her. "It's only fifteen minutes, then."

"They're dreadfully boring," she pointed out, stepping through and taking my hand again. She surprised me by tugging me close and kissing me. I think that was for the suit. "I'm glad our wedding was small."

"Yeah," I said, smiling as I looked around the yard. It was a nice setup and all, but there were so many people. There were always so many people. Sometimes I think Dom and Adam enjoyed the public humiliation, just to give them something to talk about.

"Come on," she said, leading me into the crowd. She kissed me again, lingering on my lips before disappearing to look for Dom.

If it weren't so itchy, I'd probably wear the suit more often.

* * *

I'm not going to lie – I didn't exactly plan to give a speech.

But there I was, at the reception, half still in shock that the wedding had gone _through_ this time, wishing I was a little bit drunk and not standing at a podium, unprepared to give a speech for my best friend and cousin.

Whoopsies.

"Erm." Bloody hell, my voice amplified did not help in this situation. I cleared my throat and turned towards Dom and Adam. Adam was smirking at me. I was going to punch him for that later.

"Well," I said uneasily, "you guys finally got married. Thanks for that, I lost a bet." Low laughter rumbled through the room, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Emily practically crying from silent laughter. I felt my face get hotter.

"Anyway," I stammered out, pulling at my sleeves. "I'm happy for you, mate. If you guys got through that, you'll probably get through anything." There was more laughter as I jumped off the podium and quickly made my way back to my table.

"That was brilliant," she whispered as I slipped back in my seat.

"Shut up."

"It was the most entertaining speech, honestly."

I rolled my eyes, and she collapsed in another fit of silent giggles. I couldn't help but crack a smile. After five years, I still felt like I'd married the closest friend I'd ever had, and I could trust her with anything. We never lost that.

I also still felt like jumping her half the time.

How the hell do you focus on a _wedding _when your wife looks that sexy dressed up?

I forced myself to focus on the speeches, and with my attention span, I quickly lost interest and looked around. Rose and Scorpius were at our table, fussing with their son Matthew. Five-year-old boys don't normally like to sit still. I babysat Matthew one too many times, and I knew it perfectly.

He was a little devil, but Rose and Scorpius adored him. I was pretty sure Rose was pregnant again, actually, but hadn't announced it. I just knew _something _had to be up when Rose ate three slices of chocolate cake last week when we all went out for dinner.

Mind you, that was _excellent_ cake.

Rose and Scorpius were great parents, though. They made me nervous about whenever Emily and I were going to have kids. Scorpius played through Quidditch season, and he spent all of his free time with Matthew when it ended. He made sure his family were at his games. Rose had become a fashion designer, and when she was busy with that stuff, she dumped Matthew with us.

Luckily for us, she also dumped him with James, who was still playing Quidditch (but had dropped the therapy after a particular traumatic incident). Five years before, he'd gone after Holly and tried to work things out, but he'd ended up realizing she needed a lot of time to heal – and he didn't, really. He was never really in love with her. It took him a while for him to understand that.

He travelled with Lily for a little while after that. Lily wanted to be a historian, but Mum and Dad were worried about her travelling alone, so she went with James. He met a girl in Spain, named Jess. She was good for him: loyal, honest – and a little crazy, but sweet. He married her about a year ago.

As for Lily… who knows. She was always off doing her own thing, seeing as many places as she could. She told me she didn't want to be "tied down". I rolled my eyes at that. I hadn't seen her for a while, but now she was at the wedding, chatting up some boy way too old for her.

Emily was still giggling when I looked back at her. I guess she'd noticed the murderous look on my face – but it's not my fault! I have to protect my baby sister, right? She tugged me closer and put her head on my shoulder.

"She's twenty-two," Em whispered.

"Oh, she's fine," I said, still staring at my sister and the little shit she was talking to. "It's him who has to worry."

"Stop it," she insisted, taking my hand. My eyes snapped back hers when she kissed it tenderly. I could never get over how this girl was so affectionate, even in public. I sometimes couldn't even tell her I loved her without choking it out, but she never failed to tell me.

I wasn't exactly too subtle when I tugged her out of the reception hall once the speeches wrapped up. I dragged around the nearest corner and pressed her against the wall, kissing her over and over.

"Bloody hell," she panted, pressing my shoulders back so she could catch a breath. "I should laugh at you more often."

I laughed and leaned in again, kissing her slower this time. I cupped her face as she deepened the kiss. She began sucking at my bottom lip before pulling at my tie, bringing me closer.

"Like I don't kiss you like this," I mumbled between kisses, "all the time?"

She hummed and smiled against my lips. "Good thing you dragged me out here then."

"I'm not giving them a peep show."

"Good." I tried my best not to slam her against the wall again when I attacked her neck. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and she hitched her legs around my waist.

Merlin, I loved when she did that.

Sometimes I couldn't believe we lasted so long. We met in a broom cupboard at possibly the lowest points of our lives. Since then, we forged a marriage, survived the ministry, helped with the ministry rebuilding, made our careers, fell in love and married for real.

Mind you, it hadn't exactly been easy. Like every other couple, we passed the three-month mark and weren't obsessed with being around each other anymore – not to say that we didn't love each other, because we did. We threw ourselves into our work and came out missing each other rather… intensely. It worked like that all through the publication of my first book, _Trains_, and the writing of my second novel. Not to mention that Emily was kept constantly busy with her Healing major.

We moved in together only two years ago, when we finally got married. Our relationship had a few rough spots, and though we did argue sometimes, we only had come dangerously close to breaking up twice. Once when I'd seriously fucked up – well, almost – and the second was only about a year ago, when Emily miscarried. I couldn't think about it without shrivelling up inside.

"Al," Emily breathed, bringing me back to the present. "I'd rather not be naked in public."

I realized my hands were wandering. And shifting clothing around.

"You sure?" I teased.

She nipped at my neck, and all my resolve melted. "Let's go."

"What about the reception? Adam and Dom?"

"What about them?"

I leaned back to look at her properly. Just for a second. Because I knew weddings were important, but Emily was a constant reminder that it wasn't the wedding that made our marriage. It was everything in between, and I couldn't help but appreciate how far we'd come from that broom closet all those years ago.

We made it through all of that. We made it through the ministry, we made it through not seeing each other because of school, we made it through working towards our dreams and we made it through some mistakes.

She was still the best person I'd ever known, and I couldn't imagine life without her.


	49. Epilogue: Albus: Lady Troubles

**Albus: Lady Troubles**

"Hey," I greeted, dropping down on the couch beside Emily. She was wrapped up in a blanket and reading a book. "Since you just finished exams, I was wondering if you wanted to go to a party tonight."

She put down the book into her lap and closed it, but didn't say anything.

"It'll be fun," I continued, inching closer. She wasn't even _looking_ at me. "I mean, it's Saturday night, so we still have all day tomorrow to rest before we go to your parents' house for dinner. We can just come back here after. You practically live here anyway."

She still didn't say a word, but she bit her lip.

"Em?" I asked tentatively, putting my fingers under her chin and lifting. She finally looked at me; she seemed very sad. I frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, staring down at her lap again and letting the hair fall into her eyes.

"Doesn't seem like nothing."

"It actually is nothing."

"Right." I pushed the book onto the ground and pulled her onto my legs. She immediately buried her nose into my neck. "We don't have to go tonight, you know."

"You can go if you want," she said quietly.

"Do you want me to go?"

"If you want."

"Come on, tell me what's going on," I said, kissing the side of her head. "It can't be so bad that you can't tell me."

"I think you'll freak out if I do."

I felt a jolt in my stomach. Well, _that's_ reassuring. "Now you have to tell me."

"Al."

"Emily."

"I'm not telling you," she said firmly.

"Well, I am fully prepared to kick you out of my apartment," I retorted. She gave me a look and snorted. "Okay, so maybe not."

"If anything, I'll kick you out," she muttered.

Merlin, I am so whipped.

I sighed and began kissing up her jaw. She immediately tensed, knowing my plan. She always knew _exactly_ what I was trying to do.

"That's not going to work," she told me, but her voice was wavering.

"Sure," I murmured, kissing right under her ear. I found out a little while ago that Emily had a weak spot - like how I did with my annoyingly sensitive neck. I discovered that when I kiss her under her ear, she shudders, but if I kiss a little further - behind her ear, but closer to her neck - she kind of melts into Emily Goo.

I do love Emily Goo.

"Stop!" she squealed and jerked away as my lips brushed the spot. She slid off my lap and onto the couch beside me. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you."

"Good," I said triumphantly.

"But you can't say I didn't warn you."

"All right."

She looked away, blushing now. "I think it's just PMS."

Oh.

_Oh._

"Shit_,_" I stammered out. We'd never talked about that girly stuff before. We'd talked about feelings and shit, but not... _that._ I forgot she even _had_ that scary 'time of the month' thing.

"I told you you'd freak out," she muttered, crossing her arms.

"I'm not freaking out," I lied. "Just... surprised."

"Surprised?"

"You've never mentioned it before," I pointed out. And we'd been dating for about four months at that point, so I think my argument was perfectly valid.

"Yeah, I guess." She shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly something that's on a need-to-know basis."

True. The lack of shagging did help with that.

"So... you're sad because of PMS," I said, face burning.

"Yeah."

"And you don't want to go to the party."

"No, not really," she said, looking at me and biting her lip again. Uh oh. I knew that look. It was her 'you'd-better-snog-me-before-I-attack-you' look.

Funnily enough, I rather favoured that expression.

"Neither do I," I said quickly, pulling her towards me again. Snogging all night with my hormonal girlfriend, or getting drunk with my ugly male friends. Did I really have to think about this one? "Let's order food and stay here all night."

Emily grinned and began kissing my neck. I promptly turned into Al Goo.

So whipped.


	50. Epilogue: Emily: Posters

**Emily: Posters**

"Look, Em, I want to stay, but I really can't."

I sleepily peeked at Al. We were in my dorm room, snuggling underneath my blankets. He'd come over to pick me up for a date, but I'd been working all day on lab reports and essays and I was just too tired. He'd come to the door and I told him there was no way I was moving for the next four hours.

Apparently Al was okay this. Actually content with snuggling and eating up my pumpkin pasties instead of going out. He'd just talked and filled up the silence and let me close my eyes and rest against his chest.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

But now he was shifting, looking distracted as he sat up. I quickly held onto his arm and pulled him back down. "Wait, why are you leaving?"

He sighed heavily and sank back into my pillows. "I mean, I guess I don't have to. But I'm starting to get really creeped out."

"By…" I furrowed my eyebrows. "By what, exactly? My textbooks?"

"The posters!" he burst out tightly, turning away from my roommate's side of the room and staring at me. "They're bloody _staring_ at me!"

I stifled a giggle as I peered over his shoulder. Mabel wasn't in the room, but all of her posters of Al were. They were plastered practically all over – above her bed, the wall behind her desk… pretty sure there was one on the ceiling, too. I really didn't want to know why.

"I dunno," I said, looking back at Al. "I kind of like them."

I couldn't help but laugh at his annoyance. "Would you like me to stick pictures of your face all over my bedroom wall?"

"I'd be quite flattered, actually."

I let out another stream of giggles as he dove for my neck, pressing kisses all over my jaw. I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him hard, and he rolled me over and pinned me to the bed, all thoughts of the posters clearly gone from his mind.

I couldn't help but grin against his lips. "Don't have to see the posters if we're snogging."

"Exactly," he said before kissing me soundly.

"You're never coming over again, are you?"

"Not a chance."


	51. Epilogue: Emily: The First Time

**Emily: The First Time  
**

"Okay, just think about it," Al said, propping himself up on his elbow to look at me. "If I went on the book tour to Germany, it would take about two days if I floo'd, right? But not if I went to Hawaii, because there's a time difference, and there's no way I'd understand those freaky accents myself if I was half asleep."

I grinned and whacked him with my pillow. "You're such a dork."

"Come with me, Emily," he whined.

"I want to come!" I said truthfully. Beaches and warm weather? Hell yes. "But you know why I can't."

"Screw your job."

"Tell that to my boss," I grumbled.

"I already did," he said cheekily, and I smacked him again. He shoved the pillow back under my head and pulled me towards him. "Seriously, though, I talked to her."

I froze. "You did?"

"I did."

"And she didn't _kill _you?"

"She would never kill someone this good looking."

"True," I contemplated. "Probably the reason I haven't done it yet."

"Oi!" He pinned me down onto the bed and started tickling my sides. I laughed and squirmed, trying to grab at his hands, but the boy was fast; within seconds, he had my wrists in a tight grip by the sides of my hands.

"You're not too nice to someone who just bought you a week vacation," Al said nonchalantly.

"You'll be working the entire time."

"Nah, there's only one conference at the end of it." He dropped my wrists and leaned down, brushing his lips against mine. "You want to go?"

"That's a stupid question," I murmured, smiling.

"It would be rude to just _force_ you to go to Hawaii -"

"Kiss me already, you idiot."

Al laughed. I grabbed at his collar and yanked him down to my lips, kissing him hard. He kissed me back gently, as though he was trying to slow down a little, but I wasn't having any of that; this was the first time we had a moment to ourselves in weeks.

Needless to say, his attempts didn't actually work.

He groaned and I felt it vibrating through his chest, against mine. I pulled at his shirt, pulling it over his head. He leaned back to take it off. When he emerged, he was grinning at me.

"What?" I asked defensively, panting.

"Just the look on your face."

"_What_ look?"

"One I love very much," he muttered, leaning down again before I had a chance to retort. I probably wouldn't have anyway. Al wasn't the kind of person to say the 'L-word' very often, and besides, his fingers began inch under my shirt and trace circles into my hips.

I loved that.

"Just take it off," I muttered, and he laughed. I sat up, still kissing him as his fingers ran along the skin of my back, slowly inching my shirt up. Cold air hit my skin and I felt goosebumps rise.

"Cold?" he whispered, kissing me and sliding his hand to the small of my back.

"A little."

To my surprise, instead of letting me go under the covers like a _normal_ person, he began tickling me again. I let out a squeal and jumped away from him, throwing the blanket over my head.

He laughed. "Are you hiding?"

"I am actually using a more efficient way to get warm."

"I know better ways." He yanked the blanket off of me and pinned me back onto the bed, beginning to kiss my neck.

"Hmm, that might work," I said quietly, moaning as he sucked at my pulse point.

"I am a genius, you know."

"You hate when people call you that."

He snorted and kissed down my neck, reaching my collarbone. I sighed in the sensations, and I could feel him smiling against my skin. My skin that no longer had goosebumps.

He began kissing lower and lower, slipping his hands behind my back. He found the clasp of my bra. "Can I?"

I nodded, and he quickly took it off. I grinned. "You're getting good at that."

His face flushed. Maybe he was remembering the first time he tried taking off my bra. Now I was remembering it. I laughed, and he kissed me, probably to shut me up. I smiled and slid my hands down his chest - very, _very _nice chest - and to the top of his pajamas.

He froze.

"Wait, are we...?" He trailed off as I pushed them down as far as I could. "Well, I guess we are."

I smirked. "If you want, we can stop - mmm." I guess Al didn't exactly like that idea, since he practically slammed his lips against mine. He wriggled out of his pants, still kissing me. I pulled away, breathing hard as he pulled at my shorts. Nerves were beginning to build at the pit of my stomach.

And I think Al could tell, because that's where he kissed me next.

I squealed and giggled, and he began kissing me everywhere he could reach. My stomach. My hips. My chest. My neck. My face.

"Stop laughing," he muttered, trying to keep a straight face.

"I can't," I whispered back, still giggling. "Sex is a serious matter. I shouldn't be laughing."

"Exactly," he agreed, beginning to laugh too. "So shut up."

"Make me."

He was still grinning against my lips as he kissed me, slower this time. Everything seemed to slow down; he was pulling off his boxers. Then he was pulling off my underwear. It occurred to me that even if we weren't having sex, being like this was intimate enough.

He hovered over me, looking at me. Except it didn't just feel like _looking_, because this was the first time I'd been naked in front of someone.

"Are you okay?" he panted.

"Yeah, actually." And I was. I was nervous - my heart was beating out of my chest - but I was calm. "Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

He dropped his forehead onto mine and kissed me again, very softly.

* * *

It wasn't exactly 'lovemaking'. It didn't _feel_ that way; Al and I were already in love. We didn't need sex to prove or make that.

But I understood why people said to wait. To do this with someone you love.


	52. Epilogue: Emily: Babysitting Matthew

**Emily: Babysitting Matthew**

_BANG BANG BANG._

I flinched from the rather loud knocking on the door, but Al, who was currently attached to my lips, made an impatient noise and pulled me back to him. I mean, snogging on his couch was great, but he shouldn't ignore someone at his door because of it.

I managed to pry an inch away from him. "Aren't you going to get that?"

"No," he said indifferently, shifting me on his lap before kissing me again.

I rolled my eyes. "Al, you really should –"

"OI, OPEN UP!"

_Is that_ _Rose_? I thought. I paused and looked back at the door. Al took this as an opportunity to begin sucking on my neck, and I let out a gasp.

"AL, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" Rose shouted from outside his apartment, banging the door again.

"No she doesn't," Al mumbled against my skin.

"FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, YOUR LIGHTS ARE ON." She banged the door again, and I seriously had to wonder how her hands weren't sore yet. "Come _on_, Al, it's an emergency!"

"A shopping trip is not an emergency!" Al shouted back.

"This one is!"

"I don't give a shit how many shoes you have!" he said angrily, pressing his forehead against my shoulder.

Rose only kicked the door this time. With her precious shoe.

He groaned sadly in resignation, only so I could hear. I kissed the top of his head and he pulled me in for a hug. "I'm sorry. We never get any time together."

"It's okay," I assured him, smiling. "Really. Winter break is just in a few weeks, then we have plenty of time."

"Yeah, but I hate babysitting," he said, pushing me off his lap so he could get the door. Rose threw her arms around him as soon as she saw him.

"You're the best cousin ever," she said cheerfully, planting a wet kiss on his cheek before bringing Matthew's cradle inside. He was staring widely at his new surroundings as he sucked his thumb.

_Now_ I know why Al didn't want to answer the door.

"I'll be back in three hours, tops," she promised, setting down her baby bag on the counter. "It's got all the stuff in there, and if you need me, you can –"

"Don't worry," Al said hastily, pushing her out the door. He hated when she talked too much. "I know all that shit."

"Don't swear in front of him!" she called, but he shut the door in her face. Al gave Matthew a pained smile. Then gave me the same smile.

I tried not to laugh. "You babysit pretty often, don't you?"

"I wish I could sit _on _the baby."

"He's so sweet," I cooed, unbuckling Matthew from his cradle and balancing him on my arm. He had Scorpius' blonde hair, but Rose's facial features. Only a year old. I kissed Matthew's cheek and took his thumb out of his mouth. "How could you not love him?"

"Obviously you've never had to change his diaper," Al muttered.

"How often does Rose leave him here?"

"Not often," he admitted. "That's probably why you've never seen him here. She only started a few months ago, after she could stand to be away from him and really, _really_ needed a break."

"And now _you_ need a break?" I teased, rocking Matthew. Al scowled, and I stuck my tongue out at him. "Merlin, Al. I can't even imagine how you'll be when we have kids."

"I can assure you that's one thing I'm not looking forward to."

I laughed, and Matthew started sucking his thumb again. I pulled it out. "Al, could you get me his pacifier?"

"Why not," he deadpanned, unzipping Rose's bag and rummaging through it. He moved closer and held it up to the baby's mouth, which was closed. "Come on, Matt, open up." He stared at Al, then me. I think he was realizing his mum was gone.

His lower lip trembled.

"Shit," Al muttered, and he went ahead and shoved the pacifier between Matthew's lips before he could begin to cry. I quickly bounced him up and down as Al grabbed one of the plush toys from Rose's bag to distract him. To our relief, he grabbed the tiny stuffed Quaffle and began squishing it.

Al was smirking at me. I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

"Babies cry as if they were trying to eject their lungs," he assured me. As if on cue, Matthew spit the pacifier out, threw the Quaffle at Al's head and began wailing at the top of his – well, lungs. My eardrums shook in protest.

Maybe Al had a point.


	53. Epilogue: Albus: The Mistake

**Albus: The Mistake**

"Come on, Al. You said yourself you were having doubts."

"Doesn't mean she won't kill me for going."

"What Emily doesn't know won't hurt her."

"You act as if I regularly keep secrets from her," I pointed out heavily. Andrew grunted impatiently, and I shook my head. "Sorry mate, I don't see the point. It's just my twenty-first birthday, what's the big deal?" Andrew just looked at Josh and Jarred for help. They seemed to be thinking deeply about this.

I'd met those three at a party a couple of years before, and they'd quickly become some of my closest friends. They were great guys, really, but they were so into "living their lives" and picking up every girl they could. And they were constantly trying to get me into that.

But they weren't the reason I was having doubts in my relationship with Emily. I hadn't seen her in three weeks, let alone gone on a date or... well, you know. Shagging. We hadn't done anything in at least month, and I was starting to wonder if we were better off without each other.

Andrew, Josh and Jarred were pretty quick to agree.

"Al," Josh said slowly, "it's not a brothel. It's a strip club. What's the big deal?"

My stomach clenched painfully at the thought of Emily finding out. "It would hurt her."

"Staring at naked women would hurt her?"

"Yes."

"You're so whipped," Andrew groaned, and I glared at him.

"Al, maybe you really should consider taking a break," Jarred put in. I crossed my arms in front of me. "No, I mean - come on. You're twenty-one and already tied down. Don't you want to explore around and live a little?"

"No," I said immediately. But a nagging voice in the back of my mind reminded me how I hadn't actually seen Emily in so long, and she hadn't owled or called or made any sort of contact. She didn't care.

So why should I?

"Oi." I glanced back to my friends, who were looking expectantly at me. "Are you coming, or not?"

* * *

I won't lie. The girls were hot.

It took a few drinks before I could calm down, and by that time, I could tell my friends were having the times of their lives. And truthfully speaking, it was entertaining for the first bit.

But it got boring. Fast.

I mean, I knew I was supposed to be a guy and enjoy it, and I suppose I did. But after a little while, I was getting bored of seeing the same thing over and over. It was obvious to me that everything about those girls was fake, and after noticing it the first time, it was all I could focus on.

I swished the drink in my bottle, feeling uncomfortable. Sometimes I understood where my friends were coming from. I'd had two girlfriends in my entire life, and I'd already settled down with Emily. My friends were hooking up with different girls all the time. Just to see what they liked. I could understand that.

Sort of.

I looked back onto the stage, wanting to do nothing more but sink into my chair. Those girls looked great and all, but I knew what it was like sleeping with someone I didn't love. It sucked. It felt hollow, superficial. Desperate.

And all I could think of was how Emily would feel about me being at a strip club and enjoying it. Not that I enjoyed it for long. Emily was nothing like these girls, and I didn't want her to be. She wasn't glamorous or bold like them.

But she wasn't exactly talking to me, was she?

"Al?" I glanced at Josh. He spoke quietly so Andrew and Jarred wouldn't hear. "Why don't you just call Emily and see what's going on?"

Was it that obvious I wasn't enjoying it anymore?

"No," I said, shaking my head and staring determinedly at my drink. "She's busy. With work and exams and shit."

"You look miserable."

"I'm not," I denied, looking back on the stage. "This is great. Really."

"You shouldn't be miserable on your birthday," he told me. "Let's go back to your place and watch a movie or something."

"Hell no," Jarred interrupted, having noticed our conversation. "No, he can't leave, we've got something planned!" I narrowed my eyes at him, opening my mouth to ask what exactly they did – before I noticed one of the dancers sauntering towards me.

Oh shit.

* * *

By the time I'd come home, I'd never been so guilt-ridden in my life. More than how it was with Holly. Did I not love Emily anymore? Did we not need each other anymore? Were we just _too_ independent? Did she still love me?

Well, if she still did, she wouldn't after I told her what happened.

I shoved my way into my apartment, throwing my keys somewhere and heading towards my room. It was too late for this. I decided to go to bed, get some sleep, then I could visit Emily in the morning. Maybe we could take a break for a little while. But I wasn't really sure if I wanted to break up with her.

Unfortunately, sleep's not exactly an option when there's someone already in your bed.

Emily was curled up in my blankets, hugging one of my pillows tightly and sleeping peacefully. She used to come sleep in my bed more often – just sleep, nothing else – but I suppose she started getting too tired to come over at night. I wasn't quite sure why she was there that day.

Or maybe she didn't forget my birthday, after all.

I pushed away my guilt and sat beside her. She once told me her favourite way of waking her up was when I ran my fingers through her hair and kissed her neck and shoulders. Which I used to do. Often. And honestly, even though I was questioning this entire thing, I still wanted to do it.

I had no idea what I was feeling anymore.

I hesitantly brushed her hair away from her face and leaned down. "Emily?"

She inhaled sharply. I saw her eyes open as she leaned against my hand, slowly blinking awake. She rolled over and snuggled against my leg, shutting her eyes again. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Happy Birthday," she mumbled sleepily. "Although I guess I missed it."

"Only by a couple of hours," I joked, trying to calm my nerves.

She chuckled and sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Sorry I fell asleep, I'm so tired. But I have something for you."

"Do you?" I asked, suddenly feeling worse.

She nodded and slowly got up from the bed and made her way out of my room. I heard a couple of dishes clattering in the kitchen before she came back with a small plate of what seemed to be the tiniest chocolate cake I'd ever seen. With a broomstick candle lit on top. She sat on the bed next to me.

"Adam helped," she confessed – which made sense, since she wasn't all that great at baking like he was. "While you were out tonight with your friends. I just finished my last exam this afternoon and someone agreed to take my shift for tonight, so I came over here."

"I…" I swallowed the lump in my throat.

She smiled and held up the plate in front of me. "Make a wish?"

I blew out the candle. She placed the cake on my desk before sliding her arms around the back of my neck and hugging me tightly. I couldn't help but wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered. "I'm sorry we haven't seen each other lately. These midterms stressed me out, and then I had to pick up all these extra shifts because people keep getting sick, and –"

"It's okay." It was occurring to me that maybe we hadn't grown distant or didn't love each other anymore – I just _missed_ her. I should've gone to see her earlier. I pressed a kiss to her neck. "I've missed you too."

When she leaned back to kiss me, I could feel all my doubts evaporate. Was that normal? Why did I have doubts in the first place? Were they only around because things were cooling down a little between us – but just because we didn't want to touch each other _all_ the time anymore, it didn't mean our relationship was falling apart.

Right?

I felt Emily shift on top of my lap and push me backwards. I fell onto my bed, still cradling her face in my hands and kissing her. She was unbuttoning my shirt, but I felt too guilty to do the same. I felt too guilty that she hadn't had a single doubt in me, and I hadn't been honest.

I really didn't want to tell her. I didn't want to tell her any of my doubts or what happened at the strip club. I wanted to go back to normal and not wonder if I was actually missing something by staying with one person, even if I was still young.

But I had to tell her.

"Wait," I panted, tearing myself away from her. Which wasn't easy, believe me. "Wait. I think we need to talk."

"You feel like talking instead of having sex?" she teased, dropping beside me on the bed. Her smile slid off her face when she saw my expression. "What's wrong?"

I struggled for words. It was obvious to both of us that she hadn't even considered breaking up with me – or that I was thinking of breaking up with her. This had to be said cautiously, because although it was going to hurt, I wanted it to be as painless as possible. I wanted to make sure she understood that even though I was – I repeat, _was_ – having doubts, I didn't want her to lose trust in me. I needed to say this as carefully as possible.

"I was at a strip club tonight," I blurted out.

(And _not_ like that.)

Her jaw dropped. I could tell she wasn't expecting anything like that, and my mind was racing furiously, because how the _fuck_ was I going to fix that?

"No," I said hurriedly. I didn't have a clue what I was saying. "I didn't mean it like that."

She sat up, almost as if in a daze. "Did you go to a strip club or not?"

"I did, but –"

"Why?" she asked, her voice quavering. She was so caught off guard that she couldn't even pretend she wasn't hurt. Even I couldn't believe I'd done that.

"I – I dunno." Shit, shit, shit. I sat up and faced her, trying not to say something stupider. "My friends took me there, and –"

"Did they make you go?"

"Yeah – well no, but –"

"Oh." Emily was wearing some sort of tank top, and she began tugging on it and covering herself. She'd never been this self-conscious before. Not in front of me. "Okay. Fine."

"I didn't like it," I said honestly, and she snorted. "It's true!"

"Right." She looked away, looking like she was trying not to cry. And I didn't feel like I had any right to hold her. "Okay. If you didn't like it, then why did you go?"

I took a deep breath. "It's just – I don't want to hurt you."

"Good luck with that."

"I've just been a little confused for the past month," I said quietly. She looked down to her lap. "I thought maybe we just… rushed into things a bit early. We're twenty-one. We've only ever really dated each other."

"You want to date a _stripper?_"

"No!" I said hastily. Merlin, was everything coming out wrong? "No, I just said I didn't fucking _like_ the strip club, it was stupid and fake and repetitive. Even the lap dance was stupid –"

"You got a _lap dance_?" she asked in bewilderment, eyes finally snapping to mine.

"For like two seconds, I shoved her off –"

"You –"

"My point is," I said loudly, "that's why I went. Because…" I scratched my head. "Well, I guess I thought…"

"You thought what?"

"I don't know," I said helplessly. "I don't know why I went or what I was thinking but I thought you didn't really need me since you hadn't contacted me all month."

"I don't need you," she muttered, hugging her knees to her chest. "Doesn't mean I don't want you."

I wanted to hit myself. Repeatedly. "I'm sorry."

"You could've just said you wanted a break," she told me. There was so much hurt in her voice that it was painful to _me._ "Or if you want to break up, we can. There's not much I can do about that."

"Emily…" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't want to break up."

"You're not too convincing."

"I'm serious," I said, shifting closer and taking her hands. "I just didn't get it before. I mean, we hadn't gone out in a while and we're not all over each other anymore, and it's just…"

She still wasn't looking at me. "I don't really know how relationships work either, Al. But after a while, we're bound to not want to screw each other's brains out all the time."

"I still do." That made her snort. "But I guess I just started doubting it all because I hadn't seen you in so long."

"You didn't try to, either," she said, trying to pull her hands away. I wrapped my arms around her instead.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, kissing the side of her head. "I wanted you to know the truth. I missed you, but I thought I didn't love you anymore. Which isn't true."

"Are you sure?" she asked. I could feel her tears through my shirt. "You never say it."

"I don't?" She didn't answer, so I pulled her closer. "I thought you just knew."

"So did I."

"I love you." I kissed her neck, up her jaw and below and her ear. "I love you. Okay? I didn't mean to doubt that."

"I know I'm not… like _them_," she said softly. "I'm not the kind of person to show off my body and be sexy in front of everyone. And if you want that, even a little, maybe we should take a break."

"I don't," I insisted. All I could think about was Emily in that strip club. I think the answer was pretty obvious. "I don't. Not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." I suddenly had an idea. I pushed her off of my lap and rummaged through my desk drawers. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Al, what are you doing?"

"Looking for… this." I found the little box I used to keep Emily's ring. I was surprised it hadn't gotten lost or something by then. I shut my drawer and sat back on my bed and opened my palm in front of her.

She didn't say anything. Only stared at the ring.

I cleared my throat. "If you want it."

"That… that means forever, you know," she said, tears welling in her eyes again.

"Exactly."

"And we're still young."

"I know."

"You have the _worst_ timing, Al," she said, crossing her arms and looking away. I suppose she had a point.

"I love you?" I said weakly. Her lips twitched.

"Not now," she said, folding my fingers into my palm and covering the ring. "I'm still fully convinced you want to break up with me."

"But I –"

"Maybe one day," she said, getting off the bed and wiping her eyes. "Right now, you've got a lot of sucking up to do."

My stomach dropped. She didn't trust me.

But how could she, really? I was just paying for what I did. And I deserved it. I hadn't been unfaithful, but I should've talked to her instead of my stupid friends. Maybe I would've figured out what was really going on earlier.

"All right," I said, standing. As she turned around, I hugged her from behind and pulled her back into my chest. And she let me. I nuzzled her neck and squeezed her tightly. "I love you."

"I love you too," she responded. If possible, I felt worse. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"For what?"

"You're taking me out." She winked at me before walking out of my room. I heard her apparate out minute later, leaving me alone with all my guilt that I fully, fully deserved.

But I had a feeling I could fix this.


	54. Epilogue: Emily: Re-proposing

**Emily: Re-Proposing**

I woke up to a light pressure on the back of my neck. I inhaled sharply as I recognized the feel of Al's lips running across my skin, sneaking lower and lower until I realized he was kissing down my spine.

I rolled over sleepily and snuggled into his shoulder. "Morning."

"Morning," he said quietly, contentedly. He _would_ be content; the night before was the first time we'd had sex since our huge fight three months ago. Since then, he'd be so guilty he'd sucked up to me with flowers, chocolate and endless compliments.

And not to say that I didn't like it, but he'd finally calmed down and started talking to me like a person again. Which may have led to really forgiving him, and going back to normal. Which meant the intimacy.

I wasn't complaining. Sexual frustration is the worst.

"Let's not do anything today," Al murmured, drawing the blankets closer to us. "Just stay in bed all day."

I smiled. "When's the last time we did that?"

"A long time ago." He thought back. "Way before... you know."

"The fight." He winced at the thought, and I shrugged. "It's okay, Al. I've forgiven you."

"I know."

"In hindsight, you just went to a strip club," I said, voicing my thoughts on this for the first time. He'd been kissing my arse for a few months, but it was only in the last couple of weeks that I'd come to terms with it all. I guess I could only think about it when he started treating me normally again, so I could think about what he actually did.

Which, honestly, wasn't all that bad.

"The strip club was a bad idea," he muttered disdainfully.

"For a while, I actually believed you wanted someone like that."

"I don't," he protested immediately. For just about the millionth time. "I really don't."

"I know," I said softly, reaching up to brush hair off of his forehead. "I'm just saying that's why I was upset at first. But what you did wasn't that bad. It's not as though you cheated on me."

"No…" He smiled sheepishly at me. "I couldn't even handle the lap dance."

I giggled into his shoulder. "Exactly."

I closed my eyes as he leaned down to kiss me. I'd forgotten how peaceful I felt waking up with him. I'd been so busy and on the go for so long that I hadn't been active in our relationship. I couldn't blame Al for doubting us. I'd forgotten how much I missed him until his birthday.

(No way did I tell him that.)

But I couldn't deny it hurt like hell. The fact that he'd gone to a strip club instead of just fessing up was why I'd been so upset with him. It took a while for me to realize that it wasn't about the strip club at all.

"Next time you're unsure of something," I said quietly, "just talk to me. I'll understand."

Al fell silent. I listened to his deep breathing as he stared at the ceiling, frowning and chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always did when he was thinking hard about something. I wanted to kiss the creases on is forehead away.

He turned to me after a few moments. "There's something I'm unsure of."

I ignored the pang in my chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it for a while."

"Okay." I cleared my throat and refused to let my mind wander to what he could be talking about. But seriously, a few months? "What is it?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "I was thinking you could move in." I stopped breathing, but he didn't notice. "I mean, we could get something better than this apartment. I don't really want to kick Adam out, you know? And we've been together for a while, and…" His face flushed a deep red. "I think it's safe to assume we could consider living together, right?"

I avoided his eyes and buried my face into his chest, thinking hard. Merlin, when I said 'unsure', this wasn't exactly what I was expecting.

This was a rather nice surprise, I'll admit that.

And I couldn't really think of a reason why we hadn't thought of living together before. Maybe we wanted to take things slow, but I practically lived in Al's apartment anyway. I liked sharing a bed with him. I liked the idea of being around him all the time again, like when we fake-married all those years ago. I missed him a lot after that ended, and it took a while to adjust. We did live well together.

"Al," I said slowly, my voice slightly muffled by his bare chest. "Why don't we get married?"

"What?" he spluttered, leaning back to look at me.

"Let's get married for real," I suggested, cheeks burning - but a good kind of burning. "Exchange rings, find a house, move in together. Do grown-up things like taxes and stuff."

"Do - do you really want to?" he asked. He seemed like he was holding back - like it was all a joke. I hadn't even _mentioned_ his proposal since he'd made it. "Em, do you really mean it?"

"Yeah." I felt a grin force its way onto my face. Now that I'd seriously contemplated it, I wanted it. Really wanted it. "Yeah, I do."

His mouth gaped open for a moment before pulling me close and kissing me. I could feel all sorts of things in this kiss - excitement, happiness, nervousness. Love. At least, that's exactly what I felt.

He broke away, grinning widely. "I can't believe it."

"Me neither." It was surreal. I kissed him again, and he smiled against my lips.

"Does grown up stuff include having sex before breakfast?" he mumbled.

"It had better."


	55. Epilogue: Albus: Miscarriage

**Albus: Miscarriage**

"So, when are you having kids?"

I began choking violently on my food. Seriously, my mum should know better to ask me questions like this – about _children –_ when I had decided to take a bite. Unsurprisingly, Emily handled it way better, smiling politely and swallowing like a normal person.

"I dunno," she answered, laughing nervously. Her eyes flickered to me. "I mean, we just got married – might be a while."

"Yeah," I agreed hastily. "A while. Of course."

It wasn't that I hated children, it was just… I hated children. What could I say? They were loud and messy and demanded constant attention. I saw Rose and Scorpius' baby, and although Matthew was _cute_ and all, I didn't see how we could handle that the way they did.

Emily was working all the time, and I travelled a _lot_ to promote my writing. We barely had time to ourselves, let alone time to raise a kid and wipe its butt three times a day.

A while would be nice.

Or never.

My mum beamed at me. I knew she was happy about having us over for dinner, but this was starting to get a little freaky.

"Al, I'm so glad you're finally considering having kids," she said happily.

Ah, shit.

"I mean, don't expect anything soon," I said quickly, shoveling another bite in my mouth. "We're both working, and our hands are sort of tied right now."

"Not that tied," Emily assured, smiling at my parents. "I'm sure we can make it manage."

I did my best to resist from groaning. What was the point in getting their hopes up?

"James' wife is six months pregnant, now," Dad added. Great. Another way to be compared to my brother. "And Lily says she's going to adopt from South Africa."

"My perfect siblings," I muttered, only so Emily could hear. She squeezed my hand under the table.

"Maybe one day," she said. I heard the sad note in her voice as she changed the subject.

_I am so in trouble._

* * *

We got home late. My parents usually invited us over for dinner at least once a month, and I normally enjoyed them – until the baby talk, that is. Or pick-on-Al-hour. I was hoping since we were late that we'd head straight to bed and talk about what happened in the morning. Or forget it all together.

I could be quite naïve at times.

Emily put her arms around me just as I finished brushing my teeth, digging her head into the back of my shoulder. "That was fun."

"I suppose."

"I love your family." She pushed upwards on her toes to place her chin on my shoulder and kiss my neck. "I wish I had a big family."

"You only wish that until you have one," I joked, turning around and standing against the counter. I took her hands in mine and leaned forward to kiss her lightly. "Plus, it's not like you're not part of it."

"That's true." She paused, looking down at our hands. "What if we had a big family?"

"Don't we?"

"Started one, I mean."

My eyes widened.

She wasn't saying what I thought she was saying… was she?

"Em," I said carefully, dread building inside me, "what exactly do you mean?"

"I mean…" She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "I didn't want to tell your parents, or mine, before I told you."

"Before you told me _what_?"

She grinned excitedly at me. I could feel her hands shake in mine. "I'm pregnant."

My jaw dropped.

It took me a second to register what she'd just said. More than a second. Because I was pretty damn sure that we hadn't been planning that or expecting that and WHY WAS SHE SO HAPPY WE WERE SCREWED.

"Okay." I was having a bit of trouble finding the oxygen in the bathroom. "Okay. You're pregnant. With a baby. Right."

"What would I be pregnant with, a goat?"

"I'm going to have to stop going on these book signing trips," I said, raking my hands through my hair. I couldn't travel with a _baby._ "Maybe I should just take a steady job. We barely make rent as it is."

She frowned. "That's not true –"

"We can't raise a baby here, anyway," I rambled on, barely hearing her. "I mean, we only have one bedroom, and there's no room in there for a crib. And don't we need to baby proof our shit? Not to mention we're on the seventh floor, what if it just falls out the window?"

"Falls out the _window_?"

"And we'll both be working all day, so we need to find a day care. Or a babysitter. Shit, we can't leave a kid with a babysitter, what if they turn out to be one of those creepy kidnappers who leaves babies in trashcans?"

"Are you kidding me?" she snapped. "What the _fuck_, Al –"

"We need to move. And get a house. And buy a high chair and a crib and those tiny baby clothes." I finally looked back at her; she was standing with her arms crossed, looking more than a little pissed off. "What? We never had the budget for that!"

She stepped away from me – well, as much as she could in our tiny bathroom – and just stared at me. One of those stares all girls have that make you feel instantly guilty about whatever you've done. I hated that stare. I crossed my arms defensively.

"All right," she said in small voice, "so what are you saying? You don't want a kid?"

"I've never wanted a kid," I said, not letting my voice waver. "You know that."

"But – but this –" She cut off with a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. I knew she was mad I was acting like this, but I couldn't help it. "Al. This is your child. Half me, half you. You really don't want that?"

"No!" I spluttered, throwing my hands up. "Hell no, that's fucking terrifying!"

"But it's _yours_ –"

"And how does that change the fact that we still have to take care of a _kid_?" I demanded, panicking more by the second. "What were you expecting, Emily? That I'd be _happy_ about this?"

"Yes!" she said furiously. "That's exactly what I was expecting!"

"_Why_?"

"Because I thought you wouldn't be so fucking immature about it!" she yelled, backing further and out of the bathroom. "We're not eighteen anymore, you can't just hate everything that requires a little bit of responsibility!"

"Like you don't run away from things any less than I do?" I retorted angrily. "Every time there's a problem, you just run away to _think _–"

"I'd rather think before I do something irrational, thanks –"

"– instead of facing whatever the hell your problem is –"

"I'm not running away from having a child!" she protested indignantly. Her hands came around her stomach protectively. Like she was protecting it from _me._

And that pissed me off.

I ran my hands through my hair and turned away, clenching my eyes shut. This was too much at once, and I couldn't breathe, much less think clearly. I could practically feel the heat of Emily's anger, and although I knew how upset she was, I couldn't bring myself to apologize.

"This isn't fair," I mumbled, my hands still fisted in my hair. "Bloody hell, we didn't plan this, and then you just sprung it on me out of nowhere –"

"And you think my period being late wasn't out of nowhere?" she demanded, voice breaking. Fuck, she was going to cry. "And all the morning sickness wasn't just sprung on me, and then finding out I'm somehow _pregnant_ and my husband doesn't even want his own kid –"

"It's not like that!" I insisted, spinning back around to see her. "That's not how it is!"

"What do you want me to do, Al?" she asked. I could see tears welled up in her eyes. "Not tell you until the baby's grown and is heading off to Hogwarts?"

"No –"

"And I'm not getting rid of it." Her arms were around her belly again. "I'm not."

I was exasperated more than anything by now. "I didn't _say_ that –"

"Then what _are _you saying?" she demanded. Her expression was devastated. "You keep saying you don't want kids, so forgive me for getting that message."

I folded my arms against my chest and leaned back against the wall. "You just wanted me to be excited."

"Is that such a crime?"

"_Yes_," I told her, the back of my head meeting the wall. "Yes, because you know how I feel about this, and it's not fair that you didn't want me to freak out. Especially when we didn't plan any of this. And the next couple of years is going to be hard."

"We'll manage –"

"Emily, we don't even get to spend time together _now_," I explained miserably. "A baby's so much work, and we're young – how can you blame me?"

I heard her sniff, and looked up to see her wipe her cheeks with the back of her hand. I wanted to do nothing more than hold her, but there couldn't be a worse timing. I usually had faulty instincts about these things.

She shook her head and turned away. "People had kids in the middle of the war, without any support. We have our entire family with us."

"But –"

"I'm scared too, you know?" Her voice was trembling. "I'm scared of all those things, but I know you'll be there, and things work out, because they always do, Al."

"I –" I cut off. I didn't know what to say. My head was throbbing and I didn't want to think about the fact that she was pregnant and how I didn't know the first thing about being a father and how I wasn't ready for this. Any of it.

"Let's just go to bed," she suggested quietly, not looking at me. "We'll figure everything out in the morning."

There wasn't much I could do other than to take the out she'd given me.

* * *

"Wake up."

I peek an eye open - then immediately shut it closed. _Why the hell are the lights on? What time is it? Why is Emily waking me up when it's Sunday?_

"Al, please," she whispered again. "Wake up."

I heard the fear in her voice this time. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at her - then, fast as lightening, I was shoving my glasses on and sitting up. To my horror, the blurry red blobs I'd seen were exactly what I thought they were.

Emily was sitting in a pool of blood.

Her own blood.

"What happened?" I asked frantically, pushing the blankets away to look. "Did you hurt yourself?"

She shook her head. Tears had streamed down her face and dripped off her chin. "No."

I felt dread build in my chest. "But... it can't be the..."

"I need to go to the hospital," she whispered shakily. She clenched her eyes shut. "Right now."

I could only stare at her, frozen.

"Al, please," she choked, clutching her abdomen. She knew what was happening. She knew exactly what was going on. And I couldn't even register it through the panic. "Help."

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

As if on autopilot, I grabbed around for my wand and stuck it in my waistband. Emily curled up in my arms as I scooped her up, pressing her face to my chest and beginning to sob. I felt my own eyes burn.

Without a second thought, I twisted on the spot and apparated us away.

* * *

It was my fault.

I knew it was my fault. If we hadn't had the fight... maybe if I hadn't told her I didn't want a baby, not now, or ever... if I hadn't put her through that pain, this wouldn't have happened. I never thought this would happen.

She lost the baby.

_We_ lost the baby.

She didn't let me in the hospital room. I didn't blame her. The healers came out to the waiting room a few minutes ago to tell me that she'd miscarried, and we were free to start trying again in a few months. She was just resting now.

I didn't think I deserved to see Emily. Not at all.

Still, I dragged my feet to her room. I just wanted to see if she was okay. I never wanted to put her through any pain, and miscarrying was nothing short of it. I felt like the worst person on Earth.

Come at me, Voldemort.

She was curled up in the bed, crying silently into her pillow. My own eyes were burning again. I sat back on the bed and reached out for her, and she turned away. Tears spilled out involuntarily.

"Emily, I'm so sorry," I croaked, wiping my eyes. "I never meant for this to happen, I'd never even considered it could."

Her body was shaking from sobs.

"I love you, okay?" I said pathetically. "I love you, and I would've loved this kid. I was just being stubborn. I got scared. You were right. You'd be an amazing mother, and I wouldn't be good enough."

She said nothing. Not even when I draped myself over her, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my wet face onto her back.

"This is all my fault," I whispered, holding her tightly. "I'm so, so sorry."

Finally, she spoke. In a raspy, choked-up whisper that clenched around my chest and squeezed painfully.

"It's not your fault."

* * *

That was the thing last she said for three days.

We'd gotten home from the hospital late that morning. Emily couldn't stop crying. She didn't speak. She stopped eating. She didn't bathe. She stayed curled up on our bed, staring out the window or sleeping.

I was terrified.

For as long as I'd known Emily, I'd seen her as a fighter. A strong person who would never let life win. Someone who never needed me, or anyone, to fight her battles. But she was also someone who cared deeply with all her heart.

I'd thought she was mourning, at first. That she needed her space and time. But by dinner, she hadn't gotten up to even use the bathroom, and I knew that she wasn't not hungry - she was refusing to eat.

And I was scared. I didn't have a clue what was going on. Was this normal after miscarriage? I let it slide the first day, but the second day, I found myself forcing her to drink water and pushing food past her lips because she wouldn't do it herself. She wouldn't answer me.

It wasn't the cold shoulder. I didn't know what it was.

She was fast asleep when I went to bed that night. I didn't know if she would've wanted me to, but I couldn't help but wrap my arms around her and bring her close. I wondered if she would ever forgive me for this. I wasn't too keen on forgiving myself.

What would've happened if she hadn't miscarried?

A part of me knew that we definitely would've struggled. Emily worked long hours in the middle of the night. I travelled for weeks at a time. There were months we barely made rent, and we refused help from our parents for the most part. When would we have the time and the funds to raise a baby?

But another part of me knew we could've handled it. We could've found a cheaper place. I could've stopped travelling for a few years and stuck to writing. I could've taken another job. Emily could've cut back on her hours and taken maternity leave when she needed to. I _knew_ that, but I was comfortable where we were. I shouldn't have been so reluctant and afraid.

I slid my hands across Emily's stomach and pressed my nose into her hair. What if we really had worked it all out that morning? How would it have felt if she was still pregnant? Would we still be fighting, or would I have accepted we screwed up?

Would I be doing _this – _looking for her baby bump?

Yeah. I would have.

The next morning, she still wasn't speaking. She only let me give her a few bites of toast before rolling over and starting to cry again. She didn't respond to any of my questions. By noon, she was refusing food and water entirely and I was getting a bit desperate.

I called her mum.

She hadn't exactly _known_ what had happened in the first place, so when I called her, she'd apparated to our apartment in seconds. She pushed into the bedroom and scooped Emily in her arms. They began crying together.

I felt guiltier, if possible.

I couldn't stay. I changed and grabbed my coat to walk outside. It was November, getting colder and colder by the day, but I couldn't have noticed it. I walked around my neighbourhood, feeling broken down and drained and trying to think of a way to fix this.

I kicked the wet leaves on the pavement, wishing I hadn't freaked out that night. I wished I'd kept my mouth shut and dealt it with it in a better way. I wish I hadn't stressed her out so much. I couldn't believe I was wishing this, but I wanted the baby back so badly it hurt.

When I got back home, my face was numb, but all the tears were gone. I immediately headed to the bedroom, hoping Mrs. Goyle had a bit more luck than I did. Or a lot.

Emily was asleep when I came in. Her head was resting in her mum's lap, and Mrs. Goyle was stroking her hair. She hastily wiped her tears when she saw me and shimmied out from beneath her. I followed her into the kitchen.

"Did she talk?" I asked once we'd closed the door. "Did you get through to her? Did –"

"No," she said dejectedly, looking as miserable as I did. "But she'll be fine. I know how these things go. It'll take a couple of days to get back on her feet, Al."

"But –"

"Be patient," she advised me. "She's devastated right now. Be as understanding as you can, and let her build her strength back up. She'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yes, Albus." She hugged me before she left. I went back my bedroom and peeked at Emily. She wasn't sleeping anymore. Just blankly staring out the window. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what was going through her mind.

I felt like I was losing her.

* * *

The third day was the worst.

I didn't know what to do with myself. Emily would only eat a few bites of every meal, then sleep or cry for the rest of the day. I tried to occupy myself, tried to give her space, but it was hard. I cleaned the entire apartment. I wrote (unsuccessfully). I took another walk.

It was a day of restlessness and agitation. I was miserable, and I wanted nothing more than to talk to Emily about it. I couldn't shake the fact that this wasn't her, and though I knew (I looked it up) that it would take a long time to recover from this, it wasn't like her to give up.

I didn't want to lose the best person I'd ever known. I wanted to remind her that she wasn't alone, and I was _there_, if she'd just talk to me and get up more than to use the bathroom. If she'd just let me help her.

On the fourth day, she'd woken up around noon. She went to the bathroom then crawled back into bed, wincing when I showed up with a piece of toast. She shook her head when I put it down on the bed.

"Wasn't asking," I said in response, and she narrowed her eyes at me. I ignored her and broke off half and held it towards Em. "Feeling better today?"

She took a bite of toast, not bothering to hold it. I was essentially feeding her, and though I heard couples did things like that, this was not cute at all. Her cheeks had already sunken in a little and she was pale. Very pale.

I didn't even think she was capable of getting this sick.

"It's really nice out today," I said conversationally, feeding her another bite. "You should go for a walk with me. Get some fresh air."

She avoided my eyes, chewing slowly.

"And maybe bathe. This can't be healthy."

Still nothing.

I gritted my teeth and tried not to grow frustrated. I knew she needed time, but this was getting ridiculous. "And maybe you should feed yourself, because you're twenty-two."

She turned away from me.

"Oh, fuck this," I muttered angrily, throwing the plate aside. I shoved her blankets off and picked her up. I could tell I'd shocked her. Her eyes grew wide in confusion, until I turned to head to the bathroom.

I wanted Emily back.

She began to thrash and cry out, but I somehow managed to get her to shower and dropped her in the tub beneath it. I quickly turned on the shower, and she froze as the cold water hit her.

As it turned warm, I stripped out of my own clothing and joined her in the shower. I had no idea what I was doing, I just knew I was fed up. And this was my fault, so I was going to fix it. Emily was never going to get better if she kept going like this.

I couldn't force her to do anything. But I could help.

Which might've been what was going through her mind. I sat in front of her, watching as she held her knees to her chest, her clothes soaking by now. I touched her gingerly, one hand on her shoulder, one reaching for her face.

Her eyes were red when I lifted her chin up. I bit the inside of my cheek. "Let me help you. Please."

She stared at me for a long time before she nodded.

I peeled off her sweaty, dirty clothes, and she let me. She didn't move when I lathered soap on her. She didn't protest when I shampooed her hair. She let me clean off the blood that was still on her hands. And she let me hold her when I had finished.

Her sobs wracked her body, and I squeezed my arms around her, skin to skin, the shower still pouring from above. Hot tears dripped down my chest, but I didn't care.

"Emily." She stiffened. I held her tighter. "Look, I know I'm a shitty husband, but you're scaring me, and I just…" I looked down to find her gaze on me.

She was holding her breath.

"Em," I said quietly, brushing hair out of her eyes. "You're my best friend and I want you to be okay and I miss you." I hated the way my voice cracked, but I couldn't help it. "Please talk to me."

She nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

_Finally._

I felt like collapsing into her. But I had to be the strong one this time. Strong for her. I could do that. I held her closer and pressed my lips to her forehead, hoping she knew what I couldn't say.

"How far along were you?" I whispered after some time.

Emily sniffed and wiped her nose. "Two months."

"You got attached."

"Yeah." She pressed her face back to my neck, and I ran my fingers through my hair. "I wanted her so badly. Or him."

"I wish I'd understood that," I said regretfully. Shamefully. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"I didn't miscarry because of you," she said softly, but firmly. I could barely hear her over the water. "My family has had a history of miscarriages. It's why I'm an only child."

"But -"

"I'm angry," she said, tears escaping her eyes again. "I hate this. I hate my body for rejecting my baby." I suddenly realized why she refused to eat or move.

"I think this would've been my only chance," she confessed. My eyes were burning again. "I don't know if I could go through that again."

I shook my head, even though everything inside of me was screaming in fear. "No. That's not true. You're here, and we'll have a baby one day. I promise."

"Al, I don't want to pressure you."

"Yeah, well I think I should grow up sometime," I said, feeling more and more angry with myself by the minute. I did have to realize that my irrational fear of having kids had more to do with self-doubt and unwilling acceptance of responsibilities. I had to get over that.

"I don't want you to hate any kid of ours," she told me. "I don't want kids until you're ready, too."

"Are you –"

"I'm sure," she said. Her voice became very quiet again. "I forgive you."

I cleared away the lump in my throat. "I'll accept that when you forgive yourself."

Emily rested her head on my shoulder, and I leaned my jaw on the side of her head. And we stayed like that for a little while. Listening to our breathing and the shower splatter the tub and my fingers in her hair.

"I'll fix this," I whispered, closing my eyes. "One day, we'll figure this out. When we're not twenty-two and less stupid."

She nodded in agreement, and I leaned back to cup her face and kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes as my lips passed over hers, brushing them softly. "Thanks for coming back."

"You brought me back," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"You just needed a push."

"Maybe." She paused. "I feel empty," she said quietly, quickly. I let her bury her head in my chest. We didn't speak, but it wasn't like before. It was like we needed this silence, so we could move past this.

I didn't know if we ever could, but we needed to try.


	56. Epilogue: Emily: Again

**Emily: Again**

"Al?" He turned around bed to face me, blinking sleepily at me. "I need to tell you something."

"Okay."

"Please don't freak out."

He was suddenly more awake. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I burst into tears. I couldn't help it.

I had no doubts in my mind when it came to trusting Al. I knew we both had a tendency to run away in certain situations, but I knew he would always be there to support and trust me. We'd been together since we were eighteen. It had been eight years. I didn't have any doubts anymore.

But I couldn't help but remember the last time I had to tell him this. The disappointment, the huge fight and… well, what happened afterwards. And I knew we were past that. He never meant any of it.

But I was still scared.

His arms were around me in seconds, cradling me into his chest. I curled into him and buried my face in his shoulder.

"Em, please tell me what's wrong."

"Sorry," I told him, mumbling into his chest. "I just got nervous, because I know you may not really like the news, and last time it ended so badly, and I know you hate kids but they're not so bad, really -"

"_What_?" he said sharply, pushing me back. His eyes were wide. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I…" I took a deep breath and kept my eyes trained to the logo of his shirt. "I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant?"

"I know you don't like kids, but I've been wanting them since I was a teenager." I couldn't look him in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

He went very quiet for a moment.

Then his lips were on mine, his hands in my hair, his body practically pinning me to the mattress in excitement. He kissed me again and again, like he was happy – _thrilled, _even.

This was not exactly what I was expecting.

"I know you want kids, Em," he murmured in between kisses. "It's okay with me."

"It is?"

"It really is," he said contentedly, leaning back to press his forehead against mine. "I was hoping this would happen when I hid your birth control a month ago."

My jaw dropped. "You _what_?"

"I also kept breaking the condoms," he added, shrugging. "And all the incantations weren't really silent. I just didn't do them."

"_You_ hid the…?" My head was spinning. "You - _why_? Why didn't you just ask?"

"I didn't need to," he said, shrugging. "I keep seeing you with Rose and Scorpius' kids. Then that baby in the restaurant the other day. Not to mention Dom's baby bump."

I blushed furiously and avoided his eyes again. "Why not just tell me?"

"I didn't know how to. Besides," he added, grinning, "surprising you was more fun."

I couldn't resist grabbing his jaw and kissing him.

"We're really having a baby," I said breathlessly. I couldn't contain my grin. "You're actually ready and okay with this - Merlin, am I dreaming?"

"No," he said, chuckling. For some reason, his smile was sliding off of his face. "I'm sorry about the last time."

"That wasn't your fault -"

"It was," he said guiltily. He always took the blame. "I shouldn't have reacted like that all those years ago. We would've managed."

"But you were right," I said softly. I didn't blame him for it. The miscarriage was a coincidence. I was sure of it. "Al, you know we couldn't have taken care of a baby at twenty-two. I was still studying and working and you were traveling. We weren't ready yet."

"I should've handled it differently." He nuzzled the side of my hair. "You forgive me?"

"We're still together, aren't we?"

"Yeah." That brought a smile to his face. "I know I screwed up last time. But we're ready now, and I know how much you want a kid. I can put aside my hatred for them. My own kids can be my exception."

"Al." I looked at him straight in the eye for this one. "I understand if you don't want kids. They should be a joint decision. We should both want this."

"I want this because you want this." He kissed me lightly. "I can tell this is important to you. And I'm ready for it now. Really."

I was definitely blaming the hormones for the waterworks. "You really want to do this for me?"

"I don't see how that's a question, since I sabotaged our contraception."

"Thank you." I was shaking from happiness. I buried my face in his chest again, unable to find very many coherent words. "I love you."

"I love you too." He slid his hands to my stomach. "I won't let you down this time."

I shook my head defiantly. "You never did."

"Okay."

"But if you try something like this again without talking to me first, I'll kill you."

"Fair enough."


	57. Epilogue: Albus: Tiny

**Albus: Tiny**

"Al," she whispered helplessly, her hand going weak in mine. "I can't do this. I can't. I'm not ready."

"You are," I insisted, kissing her sweaty forehead. "You can and you will, okay?"

"I can't."

"Al's right," Mrs. Goyle soothed. She had Emily's other hand on the opposite side of the hospital bed. "You've studied this, Em. You know how it works."

"I didn't think it would hurt this much," she choked out.

"You didn't think giving birth was going to hurt this much?" I said in bewilderment. Mrs. Goyle glared at me. "I mean... I'm sure no one expected it."

"Shut up, Al."

"Will do, Em."

She let out another shriek, and I wanted to cover my ears. Emily had been in labour for the past eight hours, and she was finally getting to the last stages. At this point, I was wishing I hadn't hid the birth control, after all. I felt stupidly selfish for thinking this, but I didn't feel any more ready than Emily.

It was a bit late to be having those thoughts, though.

"Al," she moaned, squeezing my hand. "_Fuck_, why did we want this again?"

"Because you get to give birth, and not me."

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"Yes, love."

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes as I kissed her forehead again. Mrs. Goyle smiled encouragingly at me, which I was pretty thankful for. My own mum was in the waiting room.

Emily wailed again, tears leaking out of her eyes. I was surprised she hadn't run out after all those hours.

"Al," she said quietly, pulling our hands to her cheek. "I'm so tired."

"Just a little longer, okay?"

She shook her head. Tears were streaming down her face. I would've done anything to make the pain go away, but I knew it would be worth it. Emily had wanted a child for a few years now, and I was only okay with the idea nine months ago.

"Emily?" We all looked up to the midwife. "It's time to push."

Uh oh.

* * *

It was a girl.

I stared at the little baby in the bassinet. She was so tiny. That's all I could think. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, tiny nose. Fragile and beautiful. My daughter.

I was pretty sure my teenage self was berating me.

I mean, this was everything I hadn't ever planned for. Having a baby and putting all responsibility on myself. Married and being absolutely whipped. But what my teenage self failed to realize was how happy these things could actually make me.

"Would you like to hold her?" A nurse asked me, bringing me out of my thoughts. I nodded, but my arms didn't move. I could only keep staring at the baby. So afraid to touch her.

"I - I want Emily to hold her first," I stammered out. The nurse peered at me, but made no comment as she picked up my daughter and brought her towards the bed.

Emily had fallen asleep - or fainted, really - after everything was finished. She was fine, though. No complications or anything (to my relief). Just exhausted.

I hated to wake her so soon (she'd only been sleeping for a few minutes), but I sort of wanted her awake for this. Her mum had just gone outside to spread the news, and I just wanted to share this moment with Em before all our relatives barged in. I touched her arm, shaking it a little and leaning over to kiss her cheek.

She opened her eyes sleepily. "Al?"

"Do you want to hold her?

She was suddenly wide awake and sitting up. Her eyes were wide and excited as the nurse lowered our daughter into Emily's arms.

I still couldn't get used to that. _I have a daughter._

"Hi," Emily whispered to the sleeping baby. She seemed to already be an expert in holding her. Em looked back up to me, and I could see she was nearly in tears again. "Al, look at her."

"I know." I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"She's so beautiful."

"I know." I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her rock our daughter, kissing her forehead and her cheeks.

Emily suddenly looked up. "Have you held her yet?"

"Um. No."

"Come closer," she said, and I scooted towards her. She carefully passed our daughter to my hands. I was struck again by how small she was, barely fitting on top of my two hands. She was soft and warm and so, so small. My nerves got the better of me and I passed her back to Emily.

She took her, frowning. "Al, you don't -"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by our relatives finally being let into the room. Barging in, just as I'd expected. The baby woke up and began to cry.

Bloody hell, I was not ready for this.

* * *

We didn't have a name for her. We had a crib, a high chair, just about a million clothes and toys, plus all this gross baby stuff like diapers and mushy food. But no name.

Yet.

I watched my daughter in the crib as Emily took a hard-earned shower. I didn't know where it was coming from, but I was so scared to touch this baby. Granted, I hadn't had very much practice holding babies before - I hadn't even held Rose and Scorpius' kids. I was too afraid I was going to hurt them or drop them or do something as equally as stupid.

Did all parents feel inadequate for parenthood?

I heard Emily come back in our room, crawl behind me on the bed and put her arms around my back. Her wet hair tickled my neck as she leaned over my shoulder to speak in my ear. "I love her already."

I couldn't take my eyes off the sleeping baby. "Me too."

"Why are you scared of holding her?"

"Don't want to hurt her," I mumbled. If there was anyone who could get the truth out of me, it was Emily.

"You won't hurt her."

"Not on purpose."

"Not even by accident," she corrected, stepping off the bed and taking the baby from her crib. Emily sat back on the bed and shifted to the middle. "Come over here."

I scooted over. Emily placed the baby in my hands again, but more slowly. Probably so I wouldn't panic. She shifted her in my arms. "Hold her closer to your chest, and support her head. It's not that hard."

I felt my jaw clench in fear, and I knew she could tell.

"Al, just relax, you're doing fine," she said softly. "What's the worst that could happen? If you drop her on the bed, she'll be fine."

I took a deep breath and let my eyes drop down to her tiny face. I was so paranoid, I couldn't drop her even if I wanted to. Emily shifted beside me, beginning to stroke her little face.

"I wish I had a longer maternity leave," she said wistfully. I nodded in agreement. "I know you're scared, but after a month, I won't be here half the time."

"Don't worry," I said. I was already calming down. I could do this whole parenting thing. I could. "I'm okay."

She paused, her finger lingering on the small tuft of dark hair on the top of our daughter's head. "I'm scared, too."

"I know."

"We'll do our best, though," she said confidently, sliding her arms around my waist and resting her head on my shoulder. "She'll be just fine."

"You're right." I brought our daughter closer and brushed my lips against her tiny little forehead, and she sighed in her sleep.

I didn't even have to tell my teenage self that it was so, so worth it.


	58. Epilogue: Emily: On Call

**Emily: On Call**

_Beep beep beep._

Damn the pager. Damn it to hell.

I groaned as I turned over, pulling the blankets over my head. Since I always hogged the blankets, Al slept closely to me – so close, in face, that the blankets overlapped his head. He woke with a start.

I never understood how my pager never woke him. He'd be a terrible healer.

"Whazzgoinon?" he mumbled, pulling the duvet down. "What time is it?"

I cracked an eye open to look at the clock. Then I groaned again. "It's five in the morning."

"Do you have to go?"

"I don't want to," I said softly, turning and burying my face in Al's chest. Merlin, he always smelled so good. "Don't make me go."

"When did you come home?" he asked, kissing my forehead.

"Four hours ago."

"Oh," he said in realization. "The Baby woke up at two. Nice surprise to see you here."

I smiled faintly, reaching up to play with the stubble along his jaw. "We really have to find a better name than 'The Baby'."

"We do," he agreed. He smiled when I yawned and pulled him closer. "Em, you gotta go to work. You're on call."

"Don't care."

"Your patients need you."

"I need _you._"

He chuckled and kissed my nose. "Come on, Em. Just a few more days, and you'll be on Christmas vacation for a week."

"It's not even Christmas."

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed, stroking my hair. "Just me, you, The Baby and some pancakes."

"Mmm." I sat up and leaned down to kiss him before throwing off the covers. "I'm holding to you that." I looked back, and he was already asleep.

Typical.


	59. Epilogue: Emily: Name

**Emily: Name**

As soon as my shift ended, I raced to sign out from work and apparated home as fast as I could. Sure, I could've been patient and not acted like a maniac getting out of St. Mungo's as though I belonged there, but I couldn't help it. Back-to-back shifts and being on-call was a healer's nightmare, and I missed my family. My two-month old daughter.

Which is why I was practically a hurricane once I got to my flat, kicking off my shoes and cost as I practically sprinted to the bedroom. Just as I'd expected, Al was there, rocking our daughter to sleep, looking half-asleep himself.

"My turn," I said breathlessly, only slowing down once I'd reached him. He handed over our baby, careful not to wake her up.

"I think she's been crying for you all day," he said, plopping down on the bed and rubbing his eyes. "At least, I know I have."

I cracked a grin and leaned over to kiss him before nudging him with my hip. "Budge over, will you?" He rolled to the other side of the bed, not bothering to open his eyes.

"I need a nap," he said tiredly.

"Me too." I wasn't looking at him. He was adorable when he slept, but babies had to take the cake on this one. I kissed her forehead and cuddled her closer. "Merlin, I never get tired of looking at her."

He smiled, but didn't open his eyes. "How was work?"

"Long."

"Did you figure out the counter curse for the guy with his foot stuck up his arse?"

"Yeah," I said, chuckling quietly. "The poor man really should've paid more attention to his girlfriend."

He laughed and rolled around so he could put his head in my lap, right next to our daughter. "So you're done for a whole week, right?"

"Yes," I said excitedly, even through my exhaustion. "If you wake me up earlier than ten o'clock, I will kill you."

"Shh!" he said, covering our daughter's ears. "I don't want you to influence her."

"Oi!"

"Don't listen to your mum," he whispered to the sleeping baby. "She's evil and Slytherin-ish."

"And your dad's whiny," I whispered in retort, narrowing my eyes at Al, "who doesn't think before he speaks."

"Shut it," he joked, leaning his head back on my leg so he was looking straight at me. His eyes were shining and he looked happy. Really happy.

"Hey, Al?" I said, tearing my eyes from his and looking back to our daughter. I pushed my thumb through her hair. "What if we named her 'Julie'?"

"'Julie'?" he asked, sitting up and looking at her. "Any reason?"

"Not really. I thought of it at work. Just sort of came to me." I watched as he stroked her cheek. "Means young or youthful or something, but I just like the name. I think it fits her."

His face slowly broke into a smile. The kind of smile that was so wide and you didn't really realize was there, but it was so genuine and hard to miss if you were anyone else.

"Julie Potter," he repeated to himself. "I think you're right." He suddenly turned to me, still smiling like that, and kissed me. "It's perfect."

"Calm yourself, we're getting mushy," I teased, and he rolled his eyes. I kissed him again before getting up to put our daughter - Julie - in her crib then snuggled back in bed with Al.

"Two hours until she wakes up again," he said sleepily, putting his arms around me and nuzzling my neck. "If it's diaper changing, you're getting up."

"Fair enough," I agreed. He did it more than I did. "I can't believe we're parents now."

"I can't believe we get time to sleep together," he mumbled into my shoulder. I laughed, not bothering to correct him when he was so tired.

"I guess we're not so bad at this whole grown-up thing, right?"

"Sleep, Em. Sleep is good. Especially before Julie wakes up."

I couldn't help but fall asleep smiling.


	60. Epilogue: Emily: Home

**Emily: Home**

It was at around three in the morning when I heard the front door slam. I hadn't been able to sleep very well for the few weeks prior since Al had decided to start traveling again and spent three weeks in America. As a result, while I was normally a heavy sleeper, I had become restless and woke up to the smallest noises. Like that door.

I was up in seconds, grabbing my wand and tip-toeing to my door to peek at the front of the apartment. I didn't know what I was expecting, but definitely not what I found.

My wand clattered to the floor and I ran, practical leaping into Al's arms. He only just let go of the luggage in time to catch me, back slamming against the door. He didn't seem to notice, if his grin was any indication.

"Hi," I said breathlessly, still clinging to him.

"Hey -"

"Are you _smug_?" I asked in disbelief, leaning back a little. He shrugged sheepishly, and I quickly pressed my lips to his to wipe the smirk off his face. He didn't need to know how much I missed him.

But he figured it out, and if his enthusiasm was any indication, he missed me pretty badly, too. I kissed him hard, yanking on his collar to bring him closer, nearly pinning him to the door. He only let me come up for air for a second before kissing me deeply.

I didn't think he would've remembered our anniversary in time to come back home.

He forgot our first anniversary. I didn't really mind; hell, it was a bit blurry to when it actually was. We decided to keep it to our wedding day, and even if it wasn't really the day we got together, neither of us could remember the real day, anyway. After he'd forgotten the first one, we decided to make sure we reminded each other, especially when we wanted to do something special. We hadn't always been able to spend them together, and that was fine, but like I said... this time, I was hoping he'd come home.

I missed him a lot this time.

Al used to travel a lot more. I was surprised how much I'd wanted him around; after all, I was busy with work and Julie and didn't really have time to think about it. But I missed the little things he did. Like wrestling with him to get out of bed in the morning. Kissing me before work. Watching him play with Julie at night. His presence left a hole in my life, and that hadn't happened when we were younger. I didn't really know why it was so different this time.

Al hummed against my lips, and I smiled. "Happy Anniversary."

"Happy Anniversary," he replied, pulling away with another sheepish look. "Sorry I didn't bring any flowers this time."

"You got them last year, it's okay," I said, chuckling. "They die in a week, anyway."

"I got you and Julie some stuff," he told me, nodding towards his luggage.

"I don't really care about stuff," I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his neck. "I missed you. We missed you."

"I missed you, too," he admitted, wrapping his arms around me and holding me. A sudden silence fell over us. Comfortable. Sleepy, almost. Just remembering.

Ten years ago, when Al had first proposed, we'd been stubbornly independent. I never would've thought I'd feel this way about anyone. I didn't need anyone, and I thought it was foolish to trust everyone who came my way. Ten years ago, I had no choice but to put my trust in him.

And him in mine.

I was hard to think that two people who felt so damaged on the inside and out would fit each other. Perhaps it was why we could never give up on each other, because we _understood_ what we both felt, and who could give up on a connection like that? And sometimes I still felt those scars, and even though Al hadn't ever set out to heal them, he somehow soothed the pain in the wound, and all was left was the mark.

All of that was the past. We made it through the new Death Eater revolution. The ministry had been rebuilt to better serve the wizarding community - no prejudice. Al and I had gotten married again. We had a daughter. We'd become a permanent part in each other's lives, and I still couldn't grasp that concept properly.

And I didn't really need to.

"Can't believe it's been ten years," Al admitted quietly.

"Me neither."

"I remember whining about the lack of chocolate cake."

"I remember that, too."

"I was a little shit."

"You still are," I teased, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. "Who was annoyed when Julie had that carrot cake on her birthday?"

"You," he lied, cheeks turning red, but he was laughing. "I was scared of you back then."

"Not anymore?"

"Definitely not," he said smugly, kissing me before I could retort. I let this one go. I was too happy to see him.

"DADDY!"

And apparently so was Julie.

We broke apart just as she reached us, and Al lifted her off her feet and into the air. She loved that.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, pressing a kiss onto her cheek and letting her down. "Way past your bedtime."

"I woke up and the lights were on," she said, seemingly unconcerned. Her attention was at the baggage on the floor. "What did you get me?"

Al broke into a grin and began helping her unzip his bags, right there in the hall. He had a smile that was just for his daughter. I always thought that was silly, when I heard people talking about different smiles and expressions reserved for certain people, but I couldn't find any other way to describe it. He slipped his arms around me as Julie started rummaging through his things.

I felt warm inside. I felt _part_ of something.

Ten years ago, I could barely stand him. The last thing I wanted was to get married to someone I didn't know and didn't want to know. I didn't have to agree, even then - but something made me agree to his proposal.

And I ended up basing my life on that moment.

* * *

A/N: Guys, this it is. Say goodbye to Emily and Al. No more scenes or extras. We're done. AHHH.

For the last time: thank you so much for reading this story. I can't describe how much your support has meant to me. If I could thank you all individually, I would. I just want to hug you all. THANK YOU.

Love you guys. :)


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